


Drabble stuff

by artispain



Category: Child's Play/Chucky (Movies), Halloween Movies - All Media Types, IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, The Boy (2016 Bell), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Deadlights (IT), Dubious Consent, Fluff and Smut, Gore, Mild Smut, Multi, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spiderwise, Stalking, all the smuts, assless chaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-09-06 01:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20283502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artispain/pseuds/artispain
Summary: These are the drabbles and hc I've been working on on Tumblr.





	1. 2017 Pennywise

You gasp as the clown grabs you and presses you against the wall of the sewer. The fetid stench of the place permeates your senses, almost creating a high, as you press against It's body to feel the tense muscle under the silken suit of this being. Pennywise nips your neck then dips his nose low to inhale your scent, trailing his nose to your ear. Then a hoarse growl, “Do you like this Y/N? Do you like when I do these things to you? Do you enjoy how I touch your body?” You feel sharp fangs nip your ear ever so gently before trailing nips down your neck as you feel large, and very strong hands prod and grope your ribs, seeking purchase to tear cloth away from your body. Your eyelids flutter closed as you feel the damp cool air kiss your skin, the shirt you had just been wearing fluttering away like ribbons. The sound of them hitting the sewer floor caressing your hearing as the guttural snarls of your eldritch lover tickle the tiny hairs on your neck. You hear sharp claws tear thru gloves and feel their razor tips graze gently down your ribs. His hands move to the waistband of your pants. “You are MINE Y/N, my little doll, my toy.” A moan escapes your lips as Pennywise uses his fangs to draw tiny lined of blood on your shoulder blade. You feel the trickle down your back and it’s intoxicating. Your body jerks as the clown slips both hands into the hem of your pants and shreds them apart. His hands then cup your bottom tightly, spreading it to make way for his pulsing cock. You cry out as you feel it MOVING. Wriggling, clutching, caressing. Sobbing, you push yourself back, trembling, wanting only his entrance. Pennywise chuckles, the breath of it tickles your ear. “Not so fast my sweet creature. Not yet…….” A groan of frustration erupts from your lips as your traitorous hips rut into his groin. “I want to make you mine Y/N. You are MINE.”


	2. 1990 Pennywise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papa needed some love lol

You squall your laughter into the soft plumes of yellow material around the clown’s knee. Your muscles quiver as his gloved fingers tickle you under your arms and along your rib cage. Your muscles spasm in an involuntary cascade. “Uncle. UUUUUNCLE!!” You scream. Pennywise works his dark brows into a quizzical angle as his fingers instantly gentle to massage your tense muscles. Your belly feels soft and pliant over his knees, your back supple under his ministrations. “That’s right Y/N, purr for me.” You groan as his fingers knead all the stress out of your body. As his hand dips lower over your back you instinctively arch your back to push your bottom into his large strong hand. A low growl escapes the clown “Y/N you know what happens when you are wanton like this.” You can hear the veiled restraint in his gravelly voice. “Mmmmmmmm” you rotate your hips into his hands in a fluid thrusting motion. You are rewarded with a low pitched growl as the clown moves both hands to massage your bottom quite roughly. Almost painfully. His knees press into your belly nearly cutting off your air as you feel his fingers slip under the hem of your pants to shred them from your body. For a moment you are suspended from them, your body shaken like a ragdoll. Then you feel open air and the kiss of the fabric brushing your hips as it falls away. Your head gets fuzzy as his scent……. Cigars and Irish cologne and roses…… he’d always known you love roses………. Wafts into your soul.   
Suddenly you cry out as a hand lands harshly on your left ass cheek. Pennywise chuckles as he massages the sting out. “Such a naughty creature.” SMACK. You gasp. He massages again bringing his other hand down sharply on the other cheek. The tingling pain combined with the gentle comfort begins to awaken your senses. The silk of his trousers makes such an arousing swish as you’re moved around with each of his movements.   
SMACK. Both hands this time. And you lose your control. Swiftly, you rise from his knees and leap upon his lap to straddle him. You see his mouth lined with fangs, his eyes shining with a telltale eerie light. Of arousal. Or something else. You are hypnotized. You rock against him, feeling his thick member thru his trousers bringing heat to your naked groin.   
Impulsively you huddle close to him, seeking his neck amongst the purple and green ruff. Now he smells of green apples and cotton candy. And roses. Always roses. The bright orange puffs of his chest make scratching sounds on your white tee.   
A deep growl escapes him as he makes short work of the garment, shredding it even easier than he’d shredded your pants. The growls deepen as he presses you to himself. Now your nipples are free to feel the softness of his suit. Pennywise slides his claws up and down your back tracing circles and ancient designs into your flesh.   
“Dontcha wanna cum Y/N? Dontcha want Pennywise to make you feel so good? Dontcha wanna?” His deep voice sends vibrations into your body and in all the right places.   
“Yes I wanna.” Your voice is a whisper choked with clouded desire.   
Suddenly he grips your hips tightly and lifts you slightly. His cock, freed gloriously from his costume and weeping with fluid, snakes up to caress tenderly around your sex.   
“I want you Y/N! NOW!” he snarls into your ear before his long tongue snakes out to line your jaw bone.   
You sigh with a deep and gentle acceptance.  
“Then take me.”


	3. Buddi x reader smut

You laid calm and relaxed on your bed. Breathing deeply, and with your eyes closed you enjoyed the cool feel of the freshly washed cotton sheets. The fan on the ceiling blew a gentle cascade on your naked skin, still damp from the shower you had just taken. In the darkness you let your mind wonder. Mostly emotions flickered throughout. Warmth, kindness, someone who cared about you. But one vision stood out in your mind. Those eyes. The most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. Deep and large and blue and kind.  
Your lonely heart latched on to this image, nurtured by it, and your body reacted in kind. You moved your hands up to cup and massage your breasts, kneading them, and stimulating your nipples. Biting your lip, you groaned as you reached a finger to your lips to moisten one then slowly slid that hand down your abdomen to your moist and glistening sex.   
As you pleasured yourself you didn’t notice the lumimous blue eyes watching you from the doorway. And didn’t notice as the small intruder walked silently over to your bed.   
Light tugging on the sheets as the doll climbed up alerted you to his presence. You startled, attempting to cover yourself. Buddi's arm shot out, his hand grasping your wrist in a gentle but steel like grip.   
“Buddi….” You breathed, feeling embarrassment and shame blushing your cheeks crimson.   
He laid a small cool finger on your lips to still them. “Shhhhhh Y/N.” He trailed the fingers of this hand along your jaw bone to your ear to grasp your earlobe squeezing it gently between his fingers before tracing the lines of your ear. His other hand reached to tug the sheet out of your hand.   
You focused on his eyes. The intense burning blue was something deep and unfathomable.   
Slowly Buddi used both hands to push your upper body back into the mattress climbing up to straddle your chest underneath your breasts. His stare never left your eyes as he gave a firm command. “Do not move Y/N.”  
His gaze left yours and settled on your breasts. His hands reached to tweak and twist your nipples.   
Your face contorted in pleasure at the feeling and of the vision of him.   
“Look at how beautiful you are.” The doll leaned forward. Your heart thundered as he placed his hand over it. He watched you for awhile with his hand on your heart then leaned forward to kiss you. It was gentle and chaste.  
Then Buddi crawled off your lap and slowly made his way down your body trailing his fingers and hands over your skin, placing kisses on every flaw he could see. Every bump, jiggle, mole, and mark. As he reached your thigh juncture he gently pushed your thighs apart and settled between them.   
You flushed all over, your vision getting blurry at him gazing at your sex. “So beautiful.” He murmured.   
He then slid his fingers into your slit caressing up and down lightly before massaging and molding your clit. You had no idea how you were supposed to keep still. Your muscles tensed and jerked. Your thighs quivered around him.  
Then he jumped up, almost in a hurry, almost impatient. Keeping intense eye contact, he reached up to slowly unsnap his suspenders. First one, then the other. Kicking them off he placed his body over you and crouched to enter you.  
Crying out, you simply could no longer obey his command. Your hips bucked, once, and sharply. You pushed yourself up to an elbow, then reached down to touch his angelic face as he pumped into you, reaching down to thumb your clit quite quickly.   
Tucking strands of his red hair behind his ear you trailed your index finger to his lips. Turning his face he nuzzled your palm and then nipped your finger, pressing his teeth gently into the flesh there. The feeling of this sent electric bolts throughout your body and, coupled with the intense feeling of him inside you as well as his loving clitoral ministrations you threw your head back and came undone, crying his name.


	4. Brahms x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saw a sketch on Tumblr that inspired this.

You cautiously cracked open the door to the large room just a tiny bit. Plaintive violin notes drifted out to where you stood, the tune familiar but only just.   
You had no idea why Brahms had asked you dress up but you had. You felt foolish standing there by the music room looking this fancy. Especially when the transgressor who had asked looked and smelled like he hadn't seen water in EVER!   
Steeling yourself you opened the door…… and felt absolute dumbfounded confusion.   
The lights were off but the dim glowing light of candles cast a warm gentle fuzzy sheen. The furniture had been pushed away towards the walls. But that wasn’t the most noticeable change in the room.   
A man stood in the middle, his back towards you. Tall, very tall, with broad shoulders which tapered into a slender waist accentuated by a clean black tux. Long, lean legs towered this man before you.   
You practically drooled.  
Who was this? Brahms was gonna have kittens!   
“H-he-hello??” you stuttered.   
The man’s shoulders stiffened. A child’s voice rang out “Y/N.” The man’s head slowly turned. The light was too dim to tell what his face looked like but you knew. Somehow you knew…….. It couldn’t be……. Could it?  
The man turned his body, lithe and graceful as an antelope, yet slow as if time itself was trembling to a halt. At least that’s what it felt like to you. Brahms.  
The candlelight kissed his porcelain mask flashing glints of fire. You felt the sad cry of the violin pulling in your blood, like gravity, towards this man. Your mouth suddenly felt like it was full of cotton and your jaw slackened. He was beautiful.   
The full thatch of unruly hair on his head looked clean and soft as it curled over the edge of his mask. You had no idea where the Amish beard had gone but you weren’t sorry to see it go! He stood tensely leaning more on one foot than the other, the fingers of his right hand toying with the ring finger of his left. Dim light made the wet sclera of his eyes appear molten. He looked……. Nervous.  
“You…… you’re clean Brahms. You….. It…… looks nice. I didn’t know you had a suit like that? You seemed like a sweater guy to me.” He didn’t answer. You were babbling. You knew you were babbling. Apparently he did too.   
Tilting his head, the action making sparks of light slide along his mask, he regarded you. “See? I can be a good boy Y/N.” his voice was a man’s rough sigh.   
Standing straight now, the violins shrill cry tickling your eardrums, he reached out his hand, palm up, trusting.  
“Would you like to dance?”


	5. Michael Myers x male reader

The crisp air of this Halloween night leaves tinges of gooseflesh on your skin. Your lungs operate a chill bellows as they steadily pump the air in and out, a low burning at your sternum indicating your exhaustion. You’re calves are beginning to cramp as the chill settles in. You’ve been running for nearly an hour, your exertion tempered here and there by small breaks to lean over and gasp.   
The vegetation you run thru claws at your legs as if to slow you down, the surrounding houses loom like ghosts as the Crescent moon shines down in a mocking grimace.   
All you can hear is your own body pounding with your footsteps as you run, your legs stretching long and desperate. But the burn closes in. You are reaching the end of your capacity. You can taste phlegm and spittle on your tongue as your nostrils burn from sucking in the cool air.   
And yet the shape follows. Walking smooth and brisk, the sureness and sentience of his steps easily allowing him to keep up with your frightened uncalculated stumbles. The sweet scent of his prey permeates the very fabric of Haddonfield. The fear of it tickles his sinuses in the most pleasurable way. To the shape the thin moonlight is a beautiful annoyance as it kisses his knife in glints yet gives away his position and intent. The shape can hear your desperate pants and cries as you trip over porch steps and bushes, pounding on doors with thorn torn fists and screaming for help in gasping chokes. Yet no one answers. Perhaps it is because it is 3 am and everyone is asleep, the trick-o-treaters long into dreams. Or perhaps it is the darkness of this cursed place every Halloween night.   
Soon you are cornered, a tall fence barring your attempts to flee. You try to climb it but your tired, achy muscles simply can give no more. Your hamstrings give out and you fall to your knees, your face hitting the wire of the fence painfully. You splutter and fling your body around to lean against the fence.   
Your eyes land on him. Michael Myers. The shape of Haddonfield. So he had never been far behind after all. The moon illumines the latex of his mask to a ghastly pale leer as steam from his breath lazily rolls out of the nostrils of his mask. His knife glints and shines with a cold authority. He stands motionless, watching as you cry out and push back at the fence behind you.   
He steps forward, his shoulders hunched slightly, looking calm. But you know he is ready to spring to either side should you choose to try to get around him. He looks very much like a big cat stalking it’s prey, every move calculated and watchful. Each step brings him closer.  
Your heart beats a rapid bird like patter as your eyes glass over in rabbit terror. The shape is very close now. You can hear the hush of his breath as it slides thru the latex of his mask. You can hear the crunch of the frosty grass under his boots with each step. In a last desperate claw at survival you leap to your feet, whirl around and try to climb the fence.   
You never even hear him close in. Only feel his left forearm, as unforgiving as iron, close around your waist, pulling you tightly to him, making your gasping painful breaths even more difficult to obtain. His right hand grips your throat. You can feel the handle of the knife digging into your flesh, the blade points harmlessly down the length of his firearm, making a hollow ting as it taps the wire of the fence.   
You feel the icy touch of his breath hitting the sensitive skin under your ear. He simply stands here, holding you like this, as if waiting for your heart to skip and thud to a more calm pace. You feel heat radiating off his body, feel it warm the chilled and damp skin of your back, enclosed only in a cotton tee shirt. You hadn’t realized, with all the fear and adrenaline coursing thru your veins, that you were, in fact, been freezing.   
The shape scents the fear. Breaths it in. Revels in it.   
With sudden force the shape snaps his arm away from your neck then slams his knife thru the very wire of the fence, driving it to the hilt, then releases the handle to bring his bare warm hand back to your throat. It feels hot as smelt iron on your jugular. Then it travels down as he hooks his fingers in the collar of your tee shirt, ripping it clean off all the way down to where his left arm is wrapped around you. Then he runs his fingers from your Adam’s apple down to your navel, skipping over his other arm to grasp your cock thru your pants.  
You gasp. It feels warm and erotic. The cool autumn air nips at your naked chest as the heat and pressure of his palm makes your cock come alive. You relax into him and his left arm releases you to travel down and work at unsnapping your pants. You can feel the muscles in his chest and abs throbbing and twitching as he moves. You can also feel his erection, firm and insistent on your bottom.   
Hooking his thumb into the waistband of your trousers he pulls your pants and underwear in one smooth movement, down to your knees. You groan as your blood warms, your head falling onto his shoulder. The mask feels chill and stiff against your cheek.   
Both of your bodies briefly jerk as he unzips his coveralls and removes them down to his hips. You hear wet noises as Michael spits into his hand then reaches down to massage the fluid for lubrication.   
Suddenly your upper body is pressed forward, your cheek pressed into the icy steel of the fence. You feel his cock prodding at you. Groaning you lean forward more to give him more access. With a popping feeling and a deep growl Michael slides into you, leaning forward to breathe in the scent of his captured prey.


	6. Sfw Pennywise headcanons

• It is not human  
• It doesn’t express emotions or  
• Feel feelings the way humans do  
• It is consumption. Consumption is a natural response to hunger.  
• It is hunger.   
• Hunger is never fully sated  
• A lack of fear, if not in the right context, would probably just piss this guy off.  
• A mortal human has very little chance of survival with this guy.  
• I mean….. It took 7 people to both be unafraid, AND believe implicitly in themselves as well as each other AND work together AND keep a promise after 27 years to finally bring It down.   
• And, let’s face it, not many of us can accomplish all those things at once.   
• And yet there’s evidence in other king novels that they still didn’t succeed.   
• It has a MASSIVE ego. Probably the biggest in the universe. It believes itself a god.   
• I think this might be the key.  
• At least to MAYBE have It hesitate to kill you.  
• If It’s not particularly hungry.  
• Or hasn’t just woken up starving  
• Or isn’t near It’s long rest.  
• It gorges via a large disaster before It’s long rest  
• If someone were to look upon It with awe….. Childlike awe…… It MIGHT hesitate to kill.   
• MIGHT  
• Might not……  
• But MIGHT  
• Fear is not required for It to kill.   
• Fear just makes the meat taste better  
• “salts” the meat.  
• Awe might make It pause.  
• If only to preen It’s ego.  
• It might just kill you anyway.   
• Remember how I said It cannot express emotions or feel feelings the way humans do?   
• Read that again. Not like this:  
• It cannot express emotions or feel feelings the way humans do.   
• But like this:  
• It cannot express emotions or feelings the way humans do.  
• In the book, they find eggs laid by Pennywise in a large spider-like form.  
• They ended up crushing these eggs and, in some of the eggs, babies were MOVING.   
• As if they were too weak to hatch but still alive.  
• The question?   
• Why does evil in the form of consumption attempt to create LIFE……. It’s own antithesis?  
• Because……..  
• It is lonely.  
• Pennywise the Dancing Clown of Derry  
• Is lonely


	7. Pennywise x Reader Fluff

Pennywise stills as you lean down towards him. You feel yourself still as well. You had no idea why he had done this. Why he’d pulled you astride him like this, as he laid back comfortably on this old couch in the dusty dark living room of 29 Neibolt. His suit practically glows by the soft and muted moonlight coming thru the grimy windows. His eyes blue like neon in the darkness. Watching you.   
He is strangely quiet. His body firm yet languid between your legs. The silk of his trousers feels cool and soft on the skin of your thighs near the hem of your shorts. His long, large hands nearly encompassing your waist. And very still. Almost like a statue.  
Looking down at him you feel a choking sigh in your throat. He is beautiful. Every part of him. Even in the dark. His vibrant hair is only a soft shadow framing his porcelain face. The glow from his eyes leaves blue reflective light on his high set cheekbones. The red lips appear black in the low light, as do the 2 smooth lines cutting up thru his eyes.   
You realize that others would think this visage was terrifying and macabre. But not you. To you He looks like some sort of dark ethereal being, a fallen angel that has deigned to sit here in calm repose simply for you to admire like this.   
His expression is smooth but not blank. Although the musculature is relaxed it is quite apparent, via his intense and piercing gaze, that he is watching closely. Paying attention to every one of your subconscious movements. But not like how he normally does. Normally he looks very much like a lion sizing up a wounded gazel when he looks at you. But now…….. His gaze is childlike. Extremely curious yes. But also gentle. Which was unsettling. Pennywise was never gentle.   
Or maybe he is TRYING to unsettle you.   
The sound of the wind howling outside breaks thru your reverie, causing the wood in the old house to groan out its aged dry sound. A branch from the gnarled tree out front is blown across the moonlight outside the window, sending skeletal shadows dancing across the clown beneath you. His eyes have never moved. You want to touch his large soft lips.  
“Do it.” His hiss of these words vibrates thru your thighs and belly. “I see what you want. And I have done nothing to hinder you.”  
You feel the flush creeping up your neck to your cheeks as warm blood fills the capillaries there. You take a deep breath, attempting to still the knocking heart inside your chest. Your breaths sound like tiny wheezes for a few moments as you slowly calm. And still the clown has not moved.   
Finally you reach out your hand. Your fingers are spread, although the pinkie taps the ring finger in its trembling. Everything slows and the distance between your hand and his face seems to grow the closer it gets.   
Finally, your pointer finger makes contact with his pouty lower lip. Then your middle finger, followed by the other two. Your hand curls as only the bare tips of your fingers staccato a nervous trace back and forth along his lower lip. It was soft and velvety and warm.  
You gasp as he smiles, making your fingers brush against his smooth, moist teeth. “So shy.” The warm breath from his mouth and the movement of his lips start a slow molten burn in your abdomen.  
This burn makes you braver. You bring your other hand up to join the first, tracing first his lips, then running your finger tips along the lines traveling up his face. He closes his eyes, a rare as well as trusting and endearing gesture, as your finger tips feather across his eye sockets to feel his brow and cheek bones.   
Then you trace the small cracks and imperfections running along his wide forehead, moving your fingers up to glide along his scalp thru his hair. It is as soft as you’d imagined.   
Your fingertips begin a light scalp massage as they glide around to his rub along the prominent mastoid process behind his ears.  
His chest puffs as a deep popping sound bubbles forward. Like a softer, muffled, primal, mechanical sound. It tickles your ears in an authoritative vibratto. It also startles you and you jerk your hands back. The sound instantly stops and Pennywise opens his eyes to settle his gaze upon you.  
“You purr???” This is voiced as a question, which goes unanswered.   
Pennywise finally moves, grasping your wrists to pull your hands back to his head “Please continue.” He has never said please.  
He only releases one hand. The purring rumbles to life as you touch his ear and scalp. You then begin to gently scratch along the bone structures and the purring increases in volume and tempo, vibrating your body as if you were sitting on a motorcycle! They are so loud that it almost sounds as if he is mixing them with self satisfied growls. 

His eyes flutter closed as he presses your other hand into his cheek. He nuzzles into it, rubbing his lips and nose along the lines of your palm. His popping breath tickles your wrist. You feel a very strange sensation, like a tight hot band, around your heart. It constricts growing almost painful. The clown doesn’t appear at all like what he is. Eldritch Terror. Eater of worlds.   
He looks……. He looks like he needs a kiss.  
So your lower your face to touch your lips to his.   
The clown’s eyes snap open. The sparkling blue is nearly blinding before shimmering into gold. The purring melts into a lustful growl. He grasps your face and pulls it away, then wraps his arms around your body. You feel his muscles tense and thrum as he whirls your body in a seamless and impossible alligator roll until you are now the one below him, your legs still around him wrap instinctively around his waist.   
You realize you are now panting from adrenaline and…… not fear……. Something else.   
Pennywise grins down at you before leaning his face down to nip your ear. A whisper comes from him and you groan.  
“My turn.”


	8. Clowboy dumbassery

“So you can change whatever……. Whenever???” you were skeptical. You had SEEN his form shift in different ways, had even FELT these changes, but had never actually seen him completely make himself look…. NOT like himself.   
Pennywise was lounged across your bed, his boots dangling several inches over the edge, even tho he was laying diagonally across it. This gave you an idea. Taking a sip from your margarita….. Now HOW was this damn clown so good at fixing drinks……. You stole yourself for a brave question.  
“So…… like……. ANYTHING??? What about a puppy?”  
The clown scoffed “Do not be a fool child. Why would I choose a form that instills such feelings of insidious warmth from you…….. Unless……..”  
As he rose from the bed his body contorted in a maniacal jerking, his bones crunching as wet liquid slopping sounds came from his tissues. Within only a few moments a three headed Cerberus like monster is perching on your bed. It’s naked skin smearing ichor upon your bed sheets. It kneads your mattress with its claws, like a kitten searching for milk. This causes the material and stuffing of your mattress to spill out.  
“PUPPY.” It bubbles out, it’s voice sounding like a wet towel being drug over gravel, as all 3 of its mouths move at the same time and glowing green slime slops from its jowls.  
You nearly choke on your drink. “PENNY!!!”   
The wet dog beast throws its heads back and howls….. No……. Roars a chortling massive sound. He is laughing at you.   
“Come on Penny.” You subconsciously begin to move towards the door of your bedroom. The 6 milky white eyes of the beast follow you. “Can’t you change into at least ONE cute thing?” You pause at the doorway.   
More disgusting noises as the three headed beast folds in upon itself like demon playdough then stretches out, returning to the lean clown form you are most familiar with.  
“Cute?” He smirks then throws his arms wide. “Well here I am my little doll!” The theatrics make the tiny bells on his costume jingle. He was……. SO fucking adorable. You begin to get irritated as you realize he is well aware of this.   
“What about people? Can you change into different people?”  
Pennywise smiles at you as his face begins to become fluid, appearing like molten wax, reshaping itself into a perfect replica of your own face and hair. Your head looks comical sitting atop his neck ruff. His grin widens flashing his own buck teeth and periwinkle blue irises from your own lips and eyes. You are frozen in absolute dumbfounded awe as the skin of the face brightens from your own skin tone to chalk white. The lips glowing blood red as lines grow from the corners of the mouth to slice thru the eyes. The hair of your own color coifing itself into Penny’s own unique tufts. You are looking at a clowned up caricature of yourself. Your own clownsona wiggles their nose then sticks their tongue out at you. You feel unsettled but no longer downright afraid.   
“Okay Penny. What about something sexy? Like……. Like a cowboy!” Your face brightens as you remember Chuck Connors from your childhood.  
Your clownsona stands stiffly from your bed, towering over you, looking down at you, before the sound of gliding wet silk as the costume writhes and forms Chuck’s familiar clothes. More waxlike flexing and Chuck's face is now staring down at you. Only his eyes are still that glowing blue.  
“Oh Lord.” You murmur. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Chuck’s eyes crinkle as his mouth blooms into a lascivious, wide grin. One very much NOT like any smile the cowboy would've ever sported.   
Pennywise's own dry giggle erupts from Chuck’s lips as his face shifts into that of the clown. It was comical really. The clown standing before you, his pristine white self, clothed in the rugged outerwear of the cowboy. Your face blushes as you nervously sip your drink.  
“Ooooooohhhh!” Pennywise’s face brightens, his lips pursing in an O shape, his eyes wide. “Don’t you humans think THIS is sexy?” Suddenly he raises his arms, pirouetting as more clothes melt away.  
Suddenly you feel acidic burning from the alcohol as it squeezes down your windpipe. There stands your beautiful clown……. Wearing nothing but Chuck Connors' angled hat, a scuffed and rugged pair of boots…….. And a very blatant and obvious pair of chaps……… No more jeans underneath……….. Just a pair of tight pale clown butt cheeks protruding from the back.  
Tears erupt from your eyes and margarita dribbles from your nose as you splutter ice and spittle from your mouth. The laughter is painfully constricting around your ribcage.   
“P-P-PEEENNYYYY!!!” you’re gasping as you realize that assless chaps HAD indeed run thru your imagination before he’d taken the form of them.  
Pennywise stiffens and regards you coldly and insect like, his irises darkening to a deep bloody vermilion.   
“Oh? You liked that did you? My little TOY?!” This last word was a snarl as he pushed you brutally against your bedroom wall. His left hand captures both your wrists and lifts you up, your legs helplessly straddling his waist, his right hand wraps itself around your throat, not squeezing, but still very firm.   
Oh shit. Once again, you’d forgotten how powerful this being is. The scent of lions at a carnival envelopes you, his soft neck ruff banishing his former silly attire to a distant memory as he presses his silken body to yours.   
Pennywise lowers his face to your neck to snuffle and take in the scent of your fresh arousal. The feel of his hot breath makes your eyes cross and your hips jut against him.   
A low growl erupts from his lips as he releases your neck to reach down to tear your shorts viciously away from you. Your underwear rips away with the same tug, your clothing dangling from his large fist. His eyes never leave yours, the vermilion tickling your sight. His fist relaxes, the cloth fluttering to the ground, landing with a soft sound on your bedroom floor.  
You shudder as he pushes his cock into you, groaning at the full feeling. Pennywise nuzzles into the crook of your neck and his growls rumble into your core. He releases your hands to tangle his fingers in your hair and wrench your head over to the side so that he can roll his teeth across the sensitive skin under your ear. You grasp the puffs on the upper arms of his suit and cling to him desperately.   
The clown pumps into you with no mercy, obviously enjoying your expression as well as the wet sounds of your coupling. It isn’t long before you’re screaming his name thru your orgasm.   
He stills and cradles your head to his chest as your breathing calms, still pinning you against your wall, still hard and swollen inside you.   
“Still laughing little one?” His voice is dark.   
You just can’t help yourself. You know you shouldn’t. But you say it anyways.  
“Save a horse, ride a clowboy…… pardner…….” You snicker tiredly.   
A gutteral snarl erupts from him as his hips snap into yours. You regret nothing.


	9. Pennywise x fem reader (wet Penny smut)

The water feels cool and soft on your skin. The moonlight washes down on your floating form as it bobs with the ebb and flow. You are very glad you had decided to take this midnight swim in the quarry by the barrens this night. It feels private and refreshing and you are so very relaxed, floating on your back, your eyes closed.   
Your clothes are folded neatly on a dry rock on the shore. You have impulsively decided to swim without any and the feeling of your full form unencompassed and unencumbered and weightless in the water is wonderful.   
You feel the wet brush of your hair on your submerged shoulders as it fans around your head. Only your face is fully above the water. Your ears, submerged, hear the tinny hollow sound from below. You open your eyes and behold the pale pearl of the moon. You are enjoying the hell out of yourself.  
And you are being watched.   
You don’t see the yellow glow of eyes on the shoreline. You don’t see the dark form creep out, slithering as it were, to your clothes. Don't hear the snuffling noises as your clothing is rifled thru. Don’t see the shadow twist and stretch to form a tall pale lithe figure. Don’t notice as it walks forward to stand right on the edge of the water to watch you.   
You float for some time. And It watches you.   
After awhile you feel your skin shiver and mount with gooseflesh. Feeling chilled you decide it’s time to head for the shore. You close your eyes and begin to swim. You are nearly there. You feel the rocky bottom on your feet and begin to walk. The water level is at your chin, then your breasts, then your waist. You’re admiring the reflected moon in the water marred by the ripples you are making. Only after the top of the water is tickling your thighs do you look up. And see a clown.  
Startled, you instinctively lower yourself into the water, covering yourself with your hands.  
“Um I’m sorry!” you stammer. You have no idea why you’re apologizing. You really don’t know what to do. The clown just watches you.  
He’s terrifying. His pale face is bright in the moonlight, the dark lines cutting up his face to his brow, which is furrowed demoniacally, give his face a violent predatory skull like appearance. His amber irises glow from his eye sockets. His costume billows in an ethereal way in the wind, which also ruffles the tufts of hair on his head. You hear tiny bells jingling lightly. He’s terrifying. And beautiful. And less than 15 feet away from you.   
The breeze brings his scent to you as it billows past his pantaloons. It’s a wild sweet scent. Like the Lion enclosure at a zoo. And spun sugar. A predator. Surprised at you body’s reaction you back further into the water slowly.  
The clown’s buck teeth flash white as his lips curl into a smile, his bottom lip hanging down almost too low. A hiss flows from him before he speaks.   
“Where are you going, (Y/N)? Don’t you want your clothes?”   
“Yes please. I…… um…… I just will go right home….. “ You’re babbling now.  
He chuckles. “And what shall you do for them?”  
Suddenly you decide bravado might work better. Standing with authority, you place your hands on your hips. “Why don’t you just come in and find out? Or are you too scared to get that fancy costume wet?”   
The clown’s eyes widen and he places his own balled fists at his hips and leans back taking you in. You feel his predatory gaze on your dripping wet, full figure. He seems to watch every drop of water as it skims down your flesh. You feel your body flush and suddenly the bravado is gone. You begin to shake from the cool night air and from something else.  
“So what’s your name, clown?”  
You watch as he drops slowly into a crouch. You know what’s coming before it happens. There’s no time to turn around. You begin to stumble backwards, slipping on the rocky bottom.   
He leaps gracefully, easily closing the now 20 foot gap between himself and you. You cough and splutter as water splashes into your gasping face. Your foot catches on a submerged stone and you fall backwards. The water closes over you, feeling warm now compared to the cooler night air. You feel your chest tightening in panic and quickly stand again, looking desperately around you.   
The surface of the water is smooth. Where is he? You know he’s in here with you but not so much as a ripple disturbs the water. Panting and dripping you again cover your breasts.   
You feel something brush your thigh. Like wet hair……. Or silk. Crying out you back away and trip again. This time, however, you don’t fall into the water, but are instead against a firm silk covered chest. A sodden orange puff brushes your lips. Two long arms wrap around you to hold you steady and firm. A gloved hand reaches up to cup your chin and push your face skyward.   
You picture how the two of you must look. A woman, back pressed against this tall strange clown, looking up into his glowing eyes. You mewl helplessly and feel your pussy begin to throb.   
His face is so close you can feel his breath fan your hairline. His lips are in your hair. He’s scenting it. His glowing amber eyes gaze down at you, one watching the water drip down the front of your body, the other locked with your own (E/C) irises. His wet hair hangs down, covering his wide forehead, and trailing down the sides of his face. You’ve never seen anything so sexy.  
His hand trails down to wrap around your neck. You feel his voice thrum into your shoulder blades.   
“I’m Pennywise the Dancing Clown.” He shudders upon the emphasis on the D sending droplets of water spraying off and making his bells jingle. “But right now…….. Yes……. Im going to make you dance.” His other hand slides down your body to slide a finger between the folds of your pussy to rub along your clit. “Gonna make you float.” A droplet of water falls from his brow to your lips. One of his eyes watches it sit there. His expert fingers massage and rub your clit till your gasping.   
You can simply no longer take it. You wrench yourself out of his grasp, turn, and jump on him, almost climbing him like a tree, wrapping your legs around his waist, grabbing his head and pulling his lips to yours. You rub your swollen clit shamelessly on the wet silk of his trousers. He staggers a bit, then steadies himself.   
His arms snake around you then down to cup and spread your ass cheeks. The cool air touching your sensitive skin makes you gasp into his mouth. His eyes are closed and you admire the microdrops on his long dark lashes. You reach your hands up to twine in the wet strands of his hair. A powerful deep growl rumbles in his chest.  
You feel his cock, freed somehow from his trousers prodding at your entrance. Throwing your head back with an animal snarl, you arch your back and press your pussy desperately towards him. He snarls, his mouth now full of razor teeth and agape, then thrusts home.  
The sound of splashing water from his thrusts, as well as the tiny tingling from his bells, is drowned by his snarls and your lustful keening. Claws shred his gloves as one hand clutches one of your ass cheeks, leaving thin blood lines, while the other reaches up to grab a fistful of your hair to push your face to his. Your mouth is full of his bubbling snarls as he kisses you deeply, his fangs leaving indentations on your tongue and lips.  
Your eyes lock with his glowing gold ones. Tears flow as you come hard, clenching around him, screaming your pleasure into him.  
He pulls your head back as his own tilts back. His mouth opens, wider, impossibly wide. A delicate orange light shines forth tho you cannot see the source due to the angle of his head. An immense alien roar fills the night as his cock stiffens inside you and you feel the hot wet gush of his own orgasm.  
Panting, you watch as the light diminishes and his mouth closes. Your body is trembling. He wraps his arms around you and studies you quietly. His brows are now smooth and his eyes glow blue. He’s beautiful.   
He leans forward, still grasping you, still inside you, to nuzzle into your neck, kissing and nipping. You feel a deep rumbling chuckle.  
“I think you’ve earned your clothes little one.”


	10. Pennywise x super tall reader (HC and drabble)

• The actor’s height is 6’4” so you better be pretty dang tall if you’re wanting to seem at all intimidating.  
• But let’s face it….. Penny isn’t going to be put off or intimidated in any way.  
• He’ll probably use his shifting ability to adjust his own height accordingly.  
• He wants to tower over you by at least 8 inches or so.   
• Because he wants YOU to be intimidated.  
• If you’re uncomfortable at the idea of being carried or held, because of your size, WATCH OUT.  
• He will target this.   
• You: “No Penny I’ll smoosh you!” Penny: *clownly guffaws*  
• If you’ve got a large bubble he will violate its boundaries.  
• He will loom over you. On purpose.   
• Basically anything to keep you at least slightly on edge.  
• Because you smell better when you’re uncomfortable.   
• Or afraid.   
• Penny also prefers the idea of you being smaller than him.  
• Not because it makes him feel powerful.   
• He already feels powerful.  
• It is because it makes you feel LESS powerful.  
• So expect a lot of big boi Penny.   
• Because you will NEVER catch this boy shorter than you.  
• Ever.

You feel the cold wall of the sewer pressing into your back, effecting a barrier to your retreat. Pennywise advances with a long, wicked smile. It's eyes glow a deep vermilion blaze in the darkness.   
Even tho you are nearly It's own height, this seems to change as the clown, crouching as It stalks forward, emits crunching, wet noises. It's arms and legs jerk and twitch as they lengthen. It's face bubbles, slightly bulbous in areas, before smoothing again. It’s proportions now matching the increased size of its body, It rumbles a dry, deep animal chuckle.   
It is now less than an arm’s length away from you. It reaches forward to grasp your upper arms with It's clawed fingers and pulls you to It’s chest. You can feel the last shifting and stretching of It’s muscles thru the silk of It’s costume.  
It is now tall enough to need to bend slightly in order to snuffle and chuckle into your hair.  
“Such a little toy for Pennywise.”


	11. Pennywise x Reader mirror scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER IN THIS ONE IF YOU HAVENT SEEN CHAPTER 2

You had not expected this when you had crept into the old house on 29 Neibolt. Had not expected this to happen. Had not expected to be having your brains fucked out by a ghost.  
You remember walking in thru the front door, as silent as you could be, your feet making quiet swishing noises sending the dirt and dust on the floor of the entranceway twirling about. You had brought a small flashlight but it was in your pocket. You’d figured you wouldn’t be needing it.  
You had come here looking for your eldritch lover. Craving him. Needing to see him.   
You had called out his name. Pennywise. But there had been no answer. The house was silent, listening, and so very dark.  
Then you had felt his breath on the back of your neck. It felt moist and and warm. The scent of him filled your senses. Big cats and spun sugar and the sickly sweet of dry decay.   
You felt his arms wrap around you, embracing you tightly. Felt his snuffling nose as he took in the scent of your hair. His soft, velveteen lips brushed your skin as his sharp teeth scraped along the nape of your neck. You felt the cool silk of his costume and heard the soft crinkling sounds it made as it was pressed against you. Could feel his powerful form tensing and relaxing underneath.   
“So soft.” His voice was a growling hoarse rumble. “So sweet.” You felt a line of saliva drop onto your neck and run under your shirt. Down your spine.  
You looked down to admire the gloved fingers you could feel slipping underneath your shirt to run along your tender, quivering belly.  
And your blood ran cold.  
There was nothing there. Your shirt was still neatly in place. Nothing moved. Everything was in order.   
But you could FEEL him. Could HEAR him. Could SMELL him. His soft hands traveled up to your chest. You could feel as the claws tore thru the gloves. Could feel as one hand reached up thru the neck hole to grasp your neck, both powerful and gentle, as the other thrust away from you to tear your shirt away, before sliding down to slip under the waistband of your pants.  
It felt divine. So you closed your eyes and leaned into his form.  
You used your mind to see. His face…… white as marble grimacing in a snarl, wrinkling the red lines cutting thru his eyes. His neck ruff molding to your body.  
Your pants were stretched beyond their limit. They left red marks of sweet pain on your hip bones as he shredded them away.   
A gasp left your lips as he pulled you back. The cool air tickled your naked skin as you fell back, landing in his lap, sitting upon him as if he were a chair. Memory whispered to you. You knew that you were in the chair by the wall.  
You felt his hands spread your legs wide, slinging one over each of his own, till you were spread wide upon him. The caress of his suit felt almost water like on your skin. You could feel his cock moving with its own life under your bottom.   
You felt pressure as he pushed himself inside you. He writhed beneath you, undulating with garbled snarls and purrs, adjusting his girth and size to fit you perfectly. His wriggling cock stretching and twisting to touch every part inside you.   
You cried out, nearly already at orgasm, your eyes flying open, landing on the mirror across the room.   
And there he was. Pennywise. Your beloved. Reflected in the mirror. Invisible here with you. But every detail of your coupling etched into the glass of this mirror. Your splayed legs putting this under display. You watched his cock slide in and out of you.   
As your mouth opens to scream your orgasm, your eyes travel up the glass to meet his. Glowing amber orbs hold your gaze as you come undone.  
And this was how you ended up fucking a ghost.


	12. Nubbins Sawyer x Reader

You feel only one thing as you watch the victim twitch and die. No emotions. No sympathy. No regret. Only cold satisfaction. You had helped. You had assisted. Your darling had told you you’d done well. That was all that mattered.   
You gaze down at the knife in your hand. Switchblade. Illegal. Covered in glistening crimson which was splattered on your fingers and dribbles down your forearm like warm syrup. It had been so easy. Pathetically easy. You drop the blade onto the now forgotten human being below you and stand, gingerly wiping the mess on your hand on your pants, smearing the gore.  
The hot Texan sun beats down upon you, washing your body with sweat. This gives a cooling feeling as the light breeze brushes your skin. The scent of bluebells gives euphoria to your killing high.   
You are standing at the edge of a large field blazing gold and reflective under the wide pale sky. Tiny flecks of the merry bluebells sway like fairies atop the shimmering yellow grass.   
Then you see him. Your heart. Skipping like a gazelle among the grass, his tall lithe frame moving the flora, making it sway, as he dips occasionally. The bright flash of a knife, like ice and fire, rapid and keen, as he slashes at flower stalks. He is collecting a bouquet of bluebells. He pauses occasionally to remove any faded blooms he sees, his countenance twitching with concentration. His fine, dark, shoulder length hair caressing his cheeks as he moves, almost dancing along the birthmark. Your Nubbins.   
You smile. The coldness that always squeezes and vexes your heart melting away. And suddenly you need him. Need to be near him. Need to feel his bubbling energy and joy.   
Spreading your arms, tilting your head back into the sun, you run blindly, laughing as he laughs, singing a song you’ve never heard, embracing that joy you only ever feel when you are with him. You twist as well, brushing your fingertips along the top of the grass. It tickles and makes you laugh.   
As he nears you, he flicks the blade closed, tucking it into the pouch round his neck. He stills for a moment, watching you, his face broken by the biggest smile you have ever seen. Then he opens his arms, trusting that you will come to him. And you do.   
You crash into him, knocking the both of you to the ground. Light breaths of laughter and the pants of exertion are softly swallowed by the grass.   
You still and look down at him. He’s smiling up at you, panting and laughing. His eyes are sparkling. You touch his face, trace it. Embracing how his presence calms the hatred for everything that usually makes you feel so cold.   
He holds up the now crumpled bouquet.  
“I got you somethin (Y/N) uhh but it’s all wrinkled now.”   
You don’t even look at it. Can’t stop looking at him. You lower your face to his. The sun kisses you both as you kiss each other.


	13. Pennywise x Thirsty reader

You feel the rancid heat in your blood. It boils like fever. Making beads of sweat form on your skin. The chill of the air in this giant dark place does nothing to cool it. Nothing to calm.  
You know he is here. The cave air is damp with the smell of him. It swirls with the scents of spun sugar, the hot popping oil for frying funnel cakes, and an animal smell. It is predatory, territorial. And the powdery smell of old decay. Oh he is here alright. And you want him.  
“Pennywise!” You call out. Your voice echoes in the vast space, cascading up the walls only to meander around and back down to you in the form of an echo. At the conclusion of the hundreds of clown names a discreet hiss bubbles around as well. At the sound of his confirmed presence you feel your heart begin to jackhammer inside your chest. You struggle to hear any other noise aside from your own heart. Your own breathing.  
The feeble light from your flashlight doesn’t penetrate far. Maybe 20 feet or so. And what you can see is otherworldly, even if it is already familiar to you. You are in a very large cavern. The only sounds now are the echoes of water dripping into pools near the edges of this cavern.   
You head for your favorite spot. The monolith of standing spikes right in the middle. They are sharp looking, splayed like splashing water, as if something had heated the very rock into liquid form before dropping a stone in, and covered with a viscous black fluid which you know not to touch. It makes your skin numb and tingly. In the middle of this formation is a smooth, round, flat surface which you stand in the middle of.  
You enjoy being here. You have no idea why this creature allows you to come and go from this place as you please. But you do not question. And you come here daily, always staying until he chooses to leave. Or simply staying for hours if he isn’t here. Sitting in the dark on this smooth surface, simply thinking about him.   
He never touches you. You rarely even actually SEE him. He usually stays in the darkness beyond your flashlight’s glow, asking what seems to be pointless questions. Answering pressing questions from you as if commenting on the weather. Or simply watching you while you talk about your day. No response other than riotous cackling laughter when you describe something that has irritated you…. Which of course will irritate you…… and in turn inspire more laughter from him. He is infuriating.  
He is beautiful.  
And you want him. Now.  
“Pennywise?” You know he’s here so this call is quieter. Questioning.  
“Yes (Y/N). I am here. Tell me sweet thing. Tell me why your scent is different. Your scent stinks of dogs writhing in heat. You smell like you want to fuck, (Y/N).” Haunting laughter follows this and you feel ire rising within you. The taunting in his words and laughter is obvious.   
“So what?” you snarl feeling shameful, hot tears spring into your eyes. “So fucking what clown? I mean ….. What do you expect? You’re………” you hesitate.   
The laughter is explosive now. “Little pet wants to play with the clown!”   
“Yes! You’re fucking beautiful okay? I wanna fuck the shit out of you!” You felt a strange sharp feeling in your chest. This had been a mistake.   
Only silence now. Marred only by the echoes of dripping water.   
Suddenly you hear a piano. The music chimes away beautifully as it circles the cavern. A tiny but strong sound. Sad and yet hungry. And yet it does not echo. You know instinctively that you are hearing it in your mind. He's used illusions on you before. He’s made you hear all sorts of terrifying things. He rather enjoys scaring the daylights out of you. But he has never done anything like this. The song is nameless and familiar, soft and comforting. He is trying to comfort you. Another sharp pain in your heart.  
“I like this song. And I swear I’ve heard it before. What song is it?” your voice sounds frail somehow.  
“It has no name. It is simply what your mind sounds like when you are here.” The answer is said in the usual, flippant, uncaring tone he always uses. He continues, without pause. “I have no use for breeding. I do not need it. It is unnecessary.” You can practically see him wave off the subject inside your mind. You feel embarrassed and shameful for ever having thought of it.  
Your shoulders slump and your chin drops to your chest. “Yeah. I guess it is Penny.” You suddenly, and for the first time, no longer wish to be here. You turn to leave.   
And walk right into his chest. You jerk, startled, the flashlight clattering to the ground, spinning around and landing the beam on the 2 of you. Remarkably it still works as it casts it’s light up, giving Pennywise a low set eerie almost monstrous glow. The light refracts in his eyes, making them burn vermilion out into the dark. Into you.  
You feel a little breathless as you finally are allowed to admire him, all shame momentarily forgotten. His mouth is slack, his nostrils flaring, as if he is tasting your scent, as a line of saliva trails to a drop from his lower lip. His buck teeth protrude, nestled between much sharper fangs. His normally perfectly coifed ginger hair appears mussed and disheveled as it falls to frame his face. The silver of his suit glows in the light. His brow is furrowed in a demonic crease.   
“I said I have no use for breeding (Y/N). Not that I would not try it.” The line of saliva finally breaks from his lips as he speaks and flutters down into the darkness near his feet.   
Suddenly all you can hear is your rabbit heart. It’s pounding so fast you can feel it throbbing behind your eyes. Your mouth dries. Your skin breaks in gooseflesh as heat burns to life deep inside your gut.   
The clown stands motionless, a dry groan bubbling in his chest, as you reach forward to his chest with trembling hands. But you hesitate, suddenly feeling more nervous than you’ve ever felt about anything ever, your hands shaking so badly you can barely control them. You feel shame swooping in again as You realize that you have no idea how to proceed. And you waited for the taunting laughter.   
But none came.  
A sharp snarl bursts from his mouth as his arms snap forward to grasp your own arms, bruising and painful, forcing you to him. A large gloved hand snakes into your hair. You can feel his nails leaving indentations in your scalp, thru his gloves, as he wrenches your lips to his. Sweet pain couples with the taste of blood as some of his fangs press thru your flesh. He is stronger than you’d realized.   
You’ve never been kissed like this. You feel his saliva mixed with your blood smearing on both of your chins. His kiss is not human at all. There is no finesse nor gentleness. There is only ardor. He is taking everything he wishes. Bloody wet growls from him make your cheeks vibrate. No. This kiss is inhuman. And it’s the best kiss you’ve ever tasted.  
Any shame, any remnants of human shyness, are stripped away before him. You no longer care. You are shameless now as your hands run along him.   
There is pain along your scalp as he pulls your head to the side by your hair. You feel his drool on your neck before his mouth reaches it. Then more sharpness as his fangs scratch your skin. He’s suckling your skin. Hard enough to make you jerk and gasp.   
His other hand reaches down to twist itself in your shirt and yank violently. Your shirt isn’t giving at first. More pain along the seems as he tanks harder. You sigh as his tongue swipes your tender neck and your shirt seams finally give way. Your shirt is not torn completely away, but hangs loosely in a limp circle around your waist.   
The clown brings his lips back to yours. Smacking sounds ring out as he tries to move his lips with yours. As he tries to be more gentle. And you realize that he understands and registers that he’s causing discomfort. That he’s not sure how to do this. This knowledge makes any doubts of what you want vanish. You boldly grasp into the material of his trousers, seeking his cock. Closing your fingers around it you slide your fist up and down slowly, stroking it thru the silk.   
His large body stiffens as he freezes, his lips still on yours, his fiery eyes so close to yours that you cannot focus on both at the same time. You moan quietly and bring your other hand around him to massage his ass.   
A hiss brushes your torn lips as he pulls away from you then drops down, ripping your pants and undergarments off as he goes. Your tattered shirt continues to hang at your waist, entirely forgotten.   
His eyes bore into yours as he leans forward to nip one of your thighs sharply, then inhales deeply. Jesus! He’s sniffing you! Like an animal! You know you SHOULD feel shame…… but you only feel yourself become wet under his warm breath.  
Pennywise stands and picks you up by the flesh of your bottom, not seeming to need anything to lean on or otherwise support himself. You cry out as you feel his cock penetrate you quickly, no preamble. He then turns himself to prop you onto one of the large rocks.   
You wrap your arms around him, the fingers of one hand brushing along the sharp pleating along the spine of his costume, the other hand grasping with white knuckles into the ruff around his neck. You cling to him.  
He freezes again, his wet lips tickling your ear as he croons to you.  
“Hold still (Y/N). I do not wish to harm you.”  
You try to hold still. You really do. But you cannot help the rocking of your hips as he uses his hands to bounce you along his pulsing cock. The cock itself is moving. Thrusting into you as his hands move.   
You watch his face slacken and relax, as his eyes roll back exposing only his whites. He’s so fucking beautiful. You bury your face into his neck ruff as you feel yourself beginning to stiffen in orgasm. His chest rumbles on your ribs as he speaks again.  
“Yes, my doll. Cum for Pennywise. Do it! Do it now!” his voice breaks into a guttural snarl and you feel heat inside you as his cock thrusts his orgasm into you.   
As you calm down and your panting slows, you enjoy the feeling of the quivering muscle structures underneath his suit.   
Behaving oddly, he nuzzles into your neck, gently licking the puncture wounds he’d inflicted earlier.   
You found yourself giggling.  
“Penny did I just pop your cherry?”  
The licking stops and a low growl vibrates your body.  
“Enjoy walking home with no clothes little doll.”


	14. Reader defends Pennywise

You pause in surprise. The tunnel is not a pitch black hole like it usually is. The weak rays of your flashlight have no need of piercing down into the depths. You can see the bottom. It’s craggy sides are illuminated from a flashing blue light coming from below.   
And you hear noises. Voices. Screams. Roars. All enveloped in a deep whirring sound. The scent billowing up to you is not the normal cloying sweet smell. It is a sharp rot tinged sting of ancient earth and urine which stings your nostrils, and makes your eyes water.   
Something is wrong. Very wrong. You lower yourself into the hole and clamber down. The rocky sides are dry and powdery. You struggle not to slip or fall.   
You are nearly to the bottom when your foot slips. You gasp and try to hold on but the chalky dust affords no purchase. You feel weightless for a moment, floating backwards, before hitting the ground. You wheeze in pain as you feel the flesh on one of your quads tear on exposed rock. You lie there for several minutes in a daze.   
Yelling coming from inside the cavern brings you back to awareness. Your body vibrates with that humming sound. You roll over and struggle to your hands and knees and begin to crawl. Burning sharp pain radiates from your leg and your pants moisten with blood. As your face rises above the last rock before your entry you see the ghost of 3 very bright round shapes whirling in a fairy dance.  
You cover your eyes quickly. His deadlights. He'd told you that you must never look upon them. So that is where this eerie pretty light is coming from. What is he doing in there? Sounds like he’s having quite the party! And he hadn’t even invited you! Well, you have a few words for him. Not now tho. Right now you are in too much pain. You need him. Need his help. Tho you dont think he’ll BE much help.   
Using your hand to shield your eyes from his deadlights, you peer around the now brightly lit cavern. At first you see nothing. Then, a movement towards the farther edge catches your attention. It is Pennywise. He is all spider again! He's showed you this form before and has quite successfully scared the shit out of you. But then he’d been about 12 feet tall. This?? This creature before you stands at nearly 2 stories tall! And he is very MAD.   
Screams and snarls erupt from him as he uses his sharp legs to stab down into a large hole at the edge of the cavern. He is cursing.   
“I CAN SMELL THE STINK OF YOUR FEAR!”   
You realize he is speaking to someone! There is someone else down here! Oh no! You have to help them! Distract him! Your mind screams it. You hope he won’t kill you. He’s assured you he never would but can you really trust such a being?   
Yes. Yes you can.   
Gasping in pain you grasp the wall next to you and stand, small blades of white fire shooting down your leg. You can’t stop the soft cries of your discomfort.   
His head snaps around, his body rippling with awareness. His eyes glow as twin globes of amber liquid flame directly into yours. Your mouth goes dry. Goodness, but in this flashing ungodly light his massive face is maniacal and beautiful.   
A crooked smile with his characteristic drooping lower lip splits his face. He says nothing. You watch in awe. His face wrinkles as, very slowly, he winks at you.   
Then his face jerks back to the opening. He must have heard who ever is in there. He bends over, a graceful silver suited thing with all of his long, lean legs, listening into the hole.   
A movement over to your right catches your eye. People! Several people! 6 to be exact. 5 males and one female. The flame of the woman’s hair catches your eye in particular. It is so like that of your Pennywise. They are creeping out of another large hole at the base of the cavern. One of their number appears injured. A short, thin man. He’s doing badly, supported by 2 of the other men. They stop, gently setting him down, propping him against a low slung outcropping.   
You have no idea how your spidery clown cannot sense them. Perhaps your presence is helping after all. He seems much too busy pawing at the first hole, twitching and throwing his head back to glance at you occasionally. As if showing you just how nasty he can be. As if showing off. This brings warmth to your chest. He’s showing off to you. But at least he’s distracted. Maybe these people can get away.  
You see some of them, all but 2, the injured man and one other, the man with thick lensed glasses, begin to try to sneak towards the cavern directly towards you. The entrance! They are trying to get to the entrance!  
You begin to feel light headed. Gazing down you see your pants are soaked with your blood. Cut must have been deeper than you realized. Looking back up you can see that your Pennywise has spotted the people. He’s running towards them, up the wall of the cavern around them, then he disappears from your view. They are so close! Just a little further!  
With a massive sound, Pennywise’s spindle toed claw feet drop violently into view. He is so close that the debris from his landing blows towards you, getting into your mouth and eyes. You can here muffled cries and voices from the people.  
“YOU’LL DIE IS WHAT YOU’LL DO!” your lover’s snarl is gigantic in pitch and volume.   
You want to cry out. To distract him. To help them get away. But your vision begins to swim and you cling to the wall next to you, fighting dizziness and nausea. You feel so weak. The words of the people become muffled and fuzzy. You make out one sentence.   
“There’s more than one way to make someone feel small.”   
Small? Why did they care if Pennywise was small? You struggle to take deep calming breaths. To steady yourself. There is yelling. They are yelling at him. He goes to lash out but then jerks back as if physically struck. He stumbles back, falling backwards into the formation in the very center of the cavern. Splayed in agony underneath his own deadlights.  
And now you realize…… they’re not trying to get away from him. They’re not innocent bystanders that somehow got lost down here. They’re WANTING to hurt him. To kill him! They’re here to kill him!   
You try to scream out but you are simply too weak. The people advance on him, creeping upon his shrinking, quaking form. Disappearing from your view inside the center rock formation. His deadlights quiver and you can hear HIM. IT. Childlike cries of pure pain. And fear. Inside your mind. You hear It screaming with fear.   
Your pain vanishes. You feel nothing. You cannot stand for this. You love him and you cannot stand for this. Rising slowly, but this time quite steady, you limp towards the monolith with a cold confidence.   
The world wobbles around you as you approach. The quivering deadlights cast chaotic and frightened shadows on the scene. You can smell baked flesh. The deadlights are dying, smoking out their death cry.  
You see a man, the one with glasses, run past you into the formation. Hear a wet wrenching popping sound. See one of his beautiful legs flying out and land at your feet twitching. You do not stop. You know what you must do.   
You enter into the flat surface at the center of the formation. And there they are, standing silently looking down, the fight already over. But you do not see them at first. All you can see is Pennywise. He is so small. Laying on his back, one eye amber and the other periwinkle blue. And he looks so much like a frightened child.   
One of the men reaches down to Pennywise’s chest. You watch the clowns tiny hands reach up. Trying to fend off the much larger, merciless hand. He’s going to……..  
Your vision goes red. You simply cannot stand for it. You stride forward, blood spurting, your limp forgotten. One of the men turns, the shortest one. His brows rise in shock at seeing you. You do not hesitate. You grunt as you extend your leg and it connects with this man’s groin.   
“Bill!” this cry comes from the woman and she advances, arms outstretched, supplicating.   
With a groan of effort you extend your arm and your fist connects with her nose. A sickening crunch rings out as she slumps over onto the ground. Knock out. The man touching your Pennywise stops and they turn to you. You spit and raise your fists.   
“You leave him alone!”   
They watch you but move to their fallen members. Keeping your fists raised and facing them, you circle to the small creature they had been assaulting. They make no move to stop you. They look exhausted and wary.   
One of them steps forward.  
“You don’t know what you’re doing!”  
“Mike!” a larger more muscular man reaches for the first man.  
You do not listen. You spit again, this time more vehemently, and turn to your Pennywise. You reach down to him. This time He does not fend. Rather, he reaches for you. You reach around him to lift him to your chest and huddle over him protectively. Turning, you crouch slightly, ready to fight. But they just stare. Tiny hands touch and caress your chin and chest as little desperate mewls call out.  
You cough then run. Blindly. Your steps occasionally jerking due to your limp. But you run. You do not care if they follow. You can only run.   
You hear them follow. And suddenly you are plunged in blackness. The deadlights. You do not know where they are but you know he has dimmed them. You stumble in the dark, nearly falling.   
A small hand reaches up to cup your temple. And you can SEE. Garish green night vision. Impossible. But as always, you do not question.  
You can hear those people stumbling around and cursing in the dark. You don’t look back, trusting him implicitly. A small crackling voice thrums at your chest, the statement framed as a question.   
“You……… you have saved my life?”  
“Yes.” Your voice is ragged panting. “Yes I suppose I have.”


	15. Pennywise x Dally NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny and anuda macroverse clown   
CLOWN BJ YAAASSS

Dally laughed as she shoved Pennywise onto the soft warm grass. The sky was inky and blue tinted, the stars flickered in pin points of glittering light. Soft hisses eminated from her pale lips as she brought her arms above her head, holding them high, before slowly dropping them, trailing her fingertips over her closed eyelids and face. She swayed her hips, rocking back and forth, as she danced to some internal song. She was humming it, her authoritative yet gentle voice sending the tune out into the growing night.   
She smoothed her hands over her costume now as she moved, glancing down at the clown below her. Pennywise didn’t look very entertained. His eyes glowed amber in the twilight. His upper lip curled on one side. He looked annoyed sitting there, his long legs splayed, as he leaned back on the grass on his arms.   
“What are you doing Dally?”  
Giggling she dropped to a crouch before him, practically on his lap, the skirt of her costume making swishing soft noises.   
“Easy Penny. Just relax! I’m gonna make YOU float tonight!” and she grinned slowly, revealing several rows of pointed sharp teeth. Pennywise tilted his head, his gaze still disapproving.   
She huffed then reached over him to push him until he laid fully on the ground propped on his elbows. Then she grabbed a fistful of the soft silky plumes of his trousers and yanked firmly, shredding them away from his crotch. At this his brows furrowed demoniacally and his mouth twisted into an impish crooked buck toothed grin.   
“Oh I see…..” His voice was a rumbling growl. “You want to play with the clown.” His chuckles were dark and deep.  
“Maybe.” She winked. “Maybe you should try it too sometime.”  
She began massaging the lean muscle of his thighs thru his destroyed trousers, inching her way towards his cock. It was dripping with thick clear fluid, glistening, and writhing. She had never seen it before. She rocked back on her heels to admire it for a few moments.   
The shaft of it was thick at the base, tapering gracefully up to the tip. Long dual ridges ran up either side. The head was bulbous and pointed with small flexible barb like bumps peppering It. It was a deep crimson which faded to obsidian at the tip. All in all it was flexible. Not quite able to twist around in a full circle, but still able to wrap itself nearly all the way around her wrist. And this is exactly what it did, leaving a wet trail of fluid in its wake as Pennywise, still with that same crooked toothy grin, locked his demonic amber eyes with Dally's bright pink glowing irises.   
A tickling female growl puffed from her as she lowered her face to run her fangs in a mocking gentle manner up his shaft. Then she smiled, letting her tongue slip out to tickle the tip, the black and bright pink stripes on it contrasting with the dark coloration on the appendage.   
The sound which erupted from Pennywise was a mixture of a growl and a hungry snarl. His hips jerked. And his cock then snaked around and along her tongue to probe at her teeth.  
She obliged, retracting her fangs to wrap her lips around it. Wet slurping sounds were heard as lines of fluid and saliva dripped down to dampen her gloved hands, which had traveled up to stroke the lower part of his shaft.   
He was now groaning in a monstrous way, voice much too deep, his eyes closed and his mouth loose and slack. Claws ripped thru his own gloves to tear into the grass and dig at the soil.   
It wasn’t long before she became impatient. Swirling her tongue one more time around his tip, she popped her mouth off and straightened, using a finger to trace a dribble of saliva off her chin.   
She then crawled upon him, lifting her skirt as she went. Pennywise clawed the pants of her costume away, snarling like a rutting animal.   
She went to sit back upon him but he became impatient then. He grasped her hips and forced them down. Forced her to sit. His pulsing cock slipped inside her slit. He then moved her hips himself as she sighed and snarled and rocked upon him. Saliva sprayed from his fanged mouth as he panted and hissed.   
A breeze blew then, making their costumes quake and dance along with their coupling.   
Dally reached her peak first, her clit rubbing along the teeth at the base of his cock. A keening female roar vibrated the night air. Pennywise followed, not long after, his roar more gutteral and deep. Thru it he sat up to claw into her costume and grasp her to him tightly.   
They sat there like this for some time, quivering and gasping.   
“So…….. You wanna play with the clown?” Dally asked coyly.  
Pennywise hissed into her neck where he had been nuzzling. Then wrapping his arms around her, he twisted the both of them violently till she was splayed on the ground below him.   
He grinned at her wickedly as his face lowered down her body, kissing and licking and nipping her costume as he did so.  
“Ladies first.” He growled.


	16. Spiderwise x fem!reader NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to take a different approach. All the Spiderwise I've seen has been noncon and let's face it..... A lot of us would consent implicitly lol

You know he is coming for you. Know It is coming. And you do not care. You want him. You want It. Accept It. In any form It chooses. Your mind is blank. Open. Hungry. As hungry as the cosmos. As hungry as him.  
You walk towards him in the dark cavern. Time feels slow. The cool air leaves trails of gooseflesh on your skin as you peel your shirt off your head and toss it into the darkness.  
Deep ancient growls flow from the darkness before you. So deep and thrumming that they vibrate thru your body. Your clit throbs in response.  
The bralette you had been wearing follows the shirt into the void. Your breasts hang freely. You feel no shame for the first time in your life. Spreading your arms, you lift your face high, looking up at the tunnel at the top of the cavern.  
Flickering lights are spinning up there. You cannot quite see them but they illumine the toothy throat like walls. You feel tears of worshipful awe leave cooling trails down your cheeks. You do not see how these tears sparkle in the darkness like diamonds. But something else in this void does.  
You hear massive clicking steps coming toward you. The sounds swirl in echoes. Many. Too many. Your throat goes dry. Your nipples harden.  
Your pants become itchy. Annoying. You scratch at your hips, drawing blood, seeking the hem to pull them off.  
His scent is stronger than its ever been, so strong you can TASTE it. Childhood memories of the circus sweeten it somehow. You can taste the butter of the popcorn. Candied apples leave their sour tickle upon your tongue. You moan quietly in response. A breeze from some unknown location fans your hair out behind you, bringing other nuances of his unique smell. You can smell the Lion cages you’d crowded around in your youth. You can smell the hungry old lion, looking at you with bleary age whitened eyes. You can almost see him. And you love him.  
Other scents dance into your brain. More subtle. But poignant all the same. Dark earth from turned graves. Old desiccation, dry decay. Not wholly pleasant. Not wholly unpleasant. The scent of him. It envelopes your body and you feel light headed from it. Need it. Need to taste even more.  
More sweet lines of pain on the skin of your hips as you finally get a firm grasp. You stop only long enough to pull both your pants and panties down. You stumble as you walk with them around your ankles, kicking your shoes off. Stepping on the tips of your socks so that you can slide them off without stopping. You kick your legs to remove the last vestiges of your clothing.  
You feel your breathing quicken. Gasps and mewls. Your thighs glisten with your arousal. You need him.  
You walk towards the center of the cavern. Shudder with pleasure as the growls erupt with ferocity, vibrating your thighs in a foreign intensity.  
Before you stands the large black rocks in their feigned liquid spray. In the dimness you can see his face peering out at you between them. His vermilion eyes are like beacons of light beckoning you ever closer.  
You feel an adoring smile form on your face. This creature. This being. It is looking at you. You watch his face tilt backwards, his nostrils flaring. He’s taking in your scent. You feel like a butterfly as the breeze in this place swirls around your body.  
You approach the rocks, knowing not to touch. As you do you hear whooshing explosive sounds. His deadlights. They twist and dance and sway as they travel down into the cavern. You know not to look at them. You focus instead on his eyes. They have never left yours.  
The blue light is glitching in an unnatural yet beautiful way. You admire the way it dances on your naked flesh. Dimples. Scars. Imperfections. None of it matters. You are naked and bare before this inhuman being and you know these things are meaningless to It.  
You head towards a space between the rock formation. You need to really see him. Your foot lands on a particularly smooth rock and you find yourself falling backwards. You feel for a moment as if you are floating. You close your eyes, waiting to hit the ground. But you never do.  
You feel the skin of your back press gently on something hard and warm and smooth. Your eyes snap open. Right up into his beautiful face. He has moved very quickly. You are laying along one of the smooth hard claws at the base of his legs. He has positioned himself so that his face is between you and his deadlights.  
You feel your body shift as he lifts you up, balanced carefully on his claw, to his face. You gasp as his lips press against your belly. Warm air from his nose tickles your breasts as he scents you deeply. You reach your hands up to touch his lips. They are so soft. Like velvet. And warm. He groans, the vibration of it making your belly and thighs jiggle.  
“(Y/N)” his voice is massive, even spoken quietly as its being spoken now. Soft sounds escape you as these massive sounds tickle your cunt. He gently nuzzles your body.  
You feel a soft spongy feeling as his tongue snakes out to stroke between your legs. You mewl his name softly.  
“Pennywise”  
You shudder as his appendage tickles between your folds. The spongy texture feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You cling to his upper lip with one hand, his saliva pooling on your belly, and dripping down onto your soaking cunt. With the other you reach your hand out to trace his jaw bone.  
His exploration of you is languid and slow. You feel the tip of his tongue, very thin, target your clit with a gentle prodding pressure, before slipping down to spread your inner folds and circle your vaginal opening. You relax as much as you can, your legs falling open to him, your hips helplessly thrusting. Small sounds escape you.  
His tongue then travels up your body, lazily, tracing every flaw and dimple, leaving wet trails as it works it’s way upward. It circles each of your breasts before tracing around your decolletage. Your eyes roll back and you sigh, clinging to his tongue now.  
The tongue works it’s way back down again. Your body is dripping from his saliva. You have never felt so good in all of your life.  
As his tongue circles your navel you begin to feel brave. Gasping at his caress, you stroke and massage his lips. The softness is so pleasing. But you know he isn’t soft everywhere. And you love every piece of him. No matter the appearance or texture.  
You bring your eyes up to his. They have never left your face. You bite your lower lip and thrust your hips as you reach down and push the tip of his tongue back to your clit.  
“Touch me Pennywise.”  
A low deep thrumming growl hisses from him. The vibration of it travels down his tongue to send your breathing into skipping gasps. Your skin flutters under his warm breath. The flashing from his deadlights intensifies.  
You watch as fangs lengthen in his mouth. His demonic face is burned into the most primitive depths of your mind. You are close.  
The tip of his tongue thrums on your clit. You sigh as it swirls around your sex before slipping inside you. It is a full feeling. But it doesn’t hurt. It’s quite wet and the noises of it can be heard above even the whirring of the deadlights.  
It doesn’t thrust as much as swirl inside you, touching every piece and making you squirm in a desperate rhythm.  
You feel your mouth, as dry as cotton, go slack as your eyes flail around for something to focus on.  
His eyes.  
Burning orbs framed by the darkness of his face, which is in turn framed by the flaming blue of his deadlights. He looks like a dark mystical being. Otherworldly. He looks like what he is as his tongue pleasures your cunt.  
You feel the heat building in your core. A steady tingling pressure that writhes and sways as the deadlights match this rhythm.  
He sighs above you, a dark sound, the air from it tickling your belly and thighs.  
His eyes burn into yours as, feeling bold, you slip your hand down thru the mixture of his saliva and your sweat on your belly, down to your clit. You massage it as your eyes get glassy.  
Your back arches and the intake of your breath is audible as pleasure blooms in your body. Your nipples harden. Your thighs blush. Another growl rewards you as your walls tighten and clench around his tongue. You cry out his name, screaming it to the deadlights. To the void. To his eyes.  
You whimper with need as his tongue exits you. Gently, as if your are the most delicate china, his claw lowers and tilts till your feet touch the ground. You jitter and sway as it leaves your back, attempting to keep your balance. It doesn’t go far, digging into the ground next to you. You reach out to grasp it for balance. And look up.  
He stands before you and you realize you’ve never seen anything so intricate and beautiful. He has the upper body of his clown form, massive and still clad in the silver suit you have come to love so much. But his bottom half is a macabre form of abdomen and legs. All still clad in silver. He moves slightly and you can hear his bells. Only it sounds as if there are many more bells than ever before, a tinkling chorus that matches the dip and sway of his deadlights.  
“Pennywise.” You breathe. “Dear God in heaven forgive me……. But I love you.”  
His gaze blazes down on you as he bows slightly, his front claws, except the one you’re leaning on, spreading slightly. His chest puffs out. He’s posing for you.  
You turn, your nakedness feeling strange as your limbs are nipped with gooseflesh in the cold air. Yet your body itself feels almost too hot. You wrap your arms around his claw and press kisses into it.  
“Let me touch you Pennywise.”  
You can feel his gaze on your backside as the claw you are kissing lifts itself away, leaving you feeling strangely lonely. You turn to watch as he sets on his abdomen, leaning off to one side. A giant predator in repose, belly exposed. Trusting.  
You walk forward, moments stretching into eternity, admiring how the silver suited skin of him shines in the whirring blue of his deadlights. His eyes bore into you.  
You watch as he lifts a claw to his face, watching it with one eye as he watches you with the other. Crunching wet sounds ring out as the claw crushes in on itself then stretches out to become a hand. He reaches out to you. You reach out to him. Your fingers clutch onto the glove of his forefinger as he pulls you gently and faster. He pulls you to himself before withdrawing his hand.  
He towers above you, silent and watchful. Your eyes leave his to run down his body. Down the front of his suit. Down to his silver abdomen.  
Then your eyes fall upon something that would make any other person quiver with fear. A gaping hole is centered on the underside of his belly. Lined with razor teeth it opens and closes in nameless eagerness. Your eyes widen. He watches closely.  
Sucking in a breath of his thick sweet scent you exhale calmly and walk forward. You walk right up to him. To this terrifying maw on his underbelly. And reach forward. It is nearly as tall as you. Your hands fall onto the teeth there. They’re slick and smooth and warm. The tips are so sharp. You kiss every one you can reach, one by one.  
As you do this something slips out of the depths of this opening. Long and wriggling, it touches your thighs, leaving slick fluid. It snakes up your body, sticky and throbbing, to your lips. You sigh as you wrap your arms around it, kissing and licking around the tip. The growls around you increase in intensity.  
The tip of his cock thrusts into your mouth, stretching your jaw uncomfortably. You moan around it.  
The deadlights are moving so fast that the cavern flickers under strobe light intensity. The clown’s face falls back and you hear muted roaring. You realize he is so touch starved that even just this small amount of stimulation is driving him over the edge.  
You feel his cock pulsating before the deluge hits your mouth. You choke and gag on it as it gushes out and onto your body. It twitches and jerks, knocking you off your feet and sending you flailing away and onto your back. The wind is knocked from you and you watch him as your lungs seize.  
His head is craning back. His mouth opened much too wide, framed by the dizzying whir of his deadlights. The cavern thunders with the roars of this eldritch being. All because of you. All for you.  
You watch as his body relaxes. His shoulders slump. His mouth closes. The deadlights slow back to their fairy sway.  
His eyes find you splayed on the ground before him, soaked in his cum. Exhausted.  
He reaches for you, both of his front limbs now gloved hands. Picking you up gently, he uses his long tongue to clean your body. You gasp as it swipes between your legs. A dark chuckle rumbles from him as he then cradles you to his chest. You feel the cool silk against your cheek.  
“I love you. So much I feel I could die.” Your murmurs are muffled in the material. You feel a massive gloved finger brush sweat soaked hair from your face.  
“Hush child.” His chest rumbles against you. “Hush now and rest.”  
You comply almost immediately, feeling the brush of your lashes on your cheeks.  
He sits in silence. Holding you. Watching you. And the deadlights dance.


	17. Reader Defends Pennywise Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew heavily from book canon for this

You hold his small body close to your heart with one arm, trying to warm him even tho your limbs feel icy from adrenaline. He feels so cold. One of his tiny hands cups your temple. This somehow changes your vision, making you able to see in the dark. The edge of the cavern advances upon you, a green monolith looming from the void. Your temporary night vision is green. It looks like the night vision you've seen on television. You suppose this is because Pennywise has fashioned this to match your perception of night vision.   
He’s panting raggedly against you, frightened mewls mixed with rasping words.   
“Little child. They wanted my heart. Were going to steal my heart. You saved me. Why did you save me? I am hunger. I am endings. I am the void. Ever consuming. Unchanging. And you. So tiny. So weak. Your own beating heart. You hurt. You hurt for me. Tell me why?” he is squealing. Babbling. His words shudder out over your own heavy breathing as you run as fast as your wounded leg will allow.   
You feel his mind with yours. Pushing. Nudging. Telling you where to go. You exit the cavern thru another opening at the base You see a tunnel. Short enough that you must bend slightly to avoid hitting your head. You clasp him to you. You trust him. You run.  
The hunched position of your laboring body forces you to hold him closer to your face, cupping your hand over the back of his soft head, supporting. Protecting.   
Dust. Nitre. It brushes your face softly as you stumble along the ancient tunnel. He’s whispering now.  
“Dear child. You shall be mine. My own. You shall never escape. Ooooo but I am so sorry. Dear thing. I must have you. My savior. My creature. My own.”  
You feel no fear in this garish green blackness. Only him. His pain and fear. His darkness. And you know he speaks the truth. You would have it no other way. You are his. Always were. Always will be.  
There is no time here. Hours. Moments. Days. You do not know.  
You slow to a walk. A shamble. Your injured leg feeling tingling and numb. You feel him weakening in your mind, your emerald vision fading to blackness, as his hand falls from your temple.   
“So tired.” He pants. “Must rest.”   
You feel panic. As if this had all been for nothing. And comfort. Perhaps you would die with him. How fitting. Your knees buckle. You use the last of your will to rotate your body so that you do not land on his little body. You feel his hands on your cheeks. Small gloved hands trace every line.   
“Do not fail child.”  
You feel tears. You have already failed.  
“Sshhh” you feel a finger trace your lips. “Reserve your strength. Put me on the ground (Y/N).”   
You shake your head vehemently, your body shaking even as your arms comply to him. Not setting him down as much as slumping weakly to your side.   
“Now go.” His thin voice is calm now.  
Only sobs pour from you as your head continues to shake. “I can’t leave you. I can’t. I’m scared.” Your voice chokes and sobs on these last words. “I love you.”  
His voice remains at the same calm pitch. “I am the only fear here (Y/N). Go. Go now. Before I am too tired to guide you out.”  
Pain sings thru your leg and exhaustion makes you shaky as you pull yourself up to a sitting position, jerking like a marionette. You lean forward and retch bile. Then you gather your legs beneath you and stand, leaning against the tunnel wall as you can no longer stand on your own.   
Stumbling blindly, dragging your now useless injured leg, you trust that tug and pull you feel in your mind. You go as his will directs. You nearly fall. Once. Twice. And then you do. Sobbing you choke on soil and rock and feel as if you’ve no more to give.  
Then numbness. Your exhaustion is gone. Your numb limp leg moves on its own. And then the other. Your body sits up with a snap. Your glassy eyes can see nothing, yet you can sense where obstacles are now. And you realize what is happening.  
He has taken control. As he has done with nearly every adult to have existed in Derry for hundreds of years. No emotions matter. No pain matters. Only the sweet siren call of his command. Of his control. Your legs stride confidently. You arms swing by your sides as you enter the cavern and can finally stand upright. There is no movement in this massive place. Those people have gone. You continue. Across the cavern. Up the tunnel. Thru the sewers. He doesn’t take you to Neibolt. You emerge in the barrens. And walk silently thru the trees and shrubs, the bright blinding sunlight and vicious mosquito bites not even registering to you. You approach a road. Stand in the middle. Collapse. Then your consciousness goes black.  
Then you hear his voice. In your dreams. It is his lilting gravely healthy voice. The voice you have come to love so well. There is no mocking or his usual laughter. No snarling. His voice is calm and commanding.   
“You shall rest now. As shall I. Your body shall heal. As shall mine. And you shall forget. You must. As all mortals do. But I shall not forget.   
I shall give you a gift I have given to few others. I cannot make you like me. Not eternal no. But I can slow your death. The death of your body. And so I will do this to you. For you. For me.   
No. I won’t forget you. Never forget. For 27 years, I shall dream of you. I shall crave you. I shall miss you.”   
And then all is silent.  
It is all true. You rest. You heal. You forget.   
You live your life. Not an exciting life. But prosperous and satisfying. You never feel interest in making permanent bonds with anyone but are always honest and kind. You live alone.  
You cannot leave. Not even for vacationing or travel. You feel physical pain in your heart at even the mention of leaving Derry Maine. You do not know why. Neither do you question this instinct.  
But you are not unhappy. You career and personal life are fulfilling and calm. Almost stagnant. As if you are waiting for something. Some nameless thing.   
You don’t really notice the difference in yourself for a long time. Or rather…… the lack of difference. The lack of change.   
At first, people tell you that you look great for your age. Then phenomenal. But then…… nervous glances. Asks about what surgeon you use. Burning envy tinged with nameless fear. In typical human fashion, the human populace of Derry, rather than embracing uniqueness, shuns it. So you lock yourself away in your home.  
29 Neibolt street. You’d always felt a draw to this place. And so, after you’d amassed financial comfort doing something you loved, you had bought it. Cleaned it up. Remodeled it. Became imprisoned in it.   
You rarely go out during the day. But exit often at night to enjoy the night air. And so that others won’t see you.   
And so this is the case one night. You are walking near the barrens when you hear a rustling sound in the foliage.  
A burning pain slashes behind your eyes. You cup your palms to your temple and hiss as the memories flood into your mind. Fast. Almost too fast. Your mouth opens and saliva dribbles out. A silent scream.   
Memories. Your childhood. The laughter of your mother. Scraping your knee after falling over on your first bicycle ride without training wheels. That nervousness of your first kiss. The struggle of your young adult life. Tinkling of tiny bells. The thrumming of your heart as some nameless thing kisses you in the dark. The primitive desire. The bravery which had burned in your heart as you’d defended that thing which you’d loved. The fear of losing that very same thing. And then…. A voice. Promises from consumption. From destruction. From endings. The ancient eldritch darkness.   
Your eyes snap open. He is here. You know he is here. The joy which flames in your heart, which had been so numb for so long, is painful. You gasp.   
The sound of those familiar bells make you twist and crane your head.  
And there. In the darkness. Between leaves and rays of moonlight twin embers of vermilion light. You here a harsh desperate whisper.  
“(Y/N)”


	18. The Fourth Deadlight (pt1)

It hisses. Twists Its form within the sewers of Derry. It feels the rest abating. It is nearly time. The center of It’s emaciated bones burns with hunger. Writhes from it. It’s body jerks and snaps as, in the latent sting of It’s final dreams It cannot decide how to form. To wake. Or perhaps It is dreaming. Running. Flying. Floating in agony. Cracking sounds issue forth from the black hole It has been resting within. Tearing as well. As if It is ripping itself away from It’s cocoon. Or tearing It’s entrails from It’s own desiccated rib cage. Or perhaps…… this is the sound of an eldritch heart as it breaks.  
Within It’s dreaming mind twists another time. A different plane. One of delectable fear. The tranquil thrum of wailing screams and gargling death rattles tickles It’s hearing. Sweet music of unutterable gibbering terror. It’s dreaming vision is caressed by the allure of dilated alien eyes. Flaring nostrils. The bounce and sway of bodies fleeing on a different world. Quadrupedal slack jawed fatlings. Spindle legged and trembling with that emotion which was most delicious of them all. It feasted. Mowing thru, enjoying the hot wet rushing taste slopping in It’s gaping fanged maw. Oh but this was ecstasy!   
\--------  
It feasted. Yes. Gorged with ravenous moans and squishing sounds, slurping at the last vestiges of terror as it cooled, turning shiny eyes glassy and dull. Feasted until It was satisfied. Relaxing to rub It’s bloated belly, as It belched comfortably. Being like this had been so satisfying. Carefree. But the hunger was never long in returning. Never stayed away. So soon It was stalking again. It would drain this world as It had drained so many others. Suckle and slurp until this planet was as empty as It’s own heart. Then move along, leaving the now dry planet like a forgotten lover.  
Yessssss. Only a few centuries of fun from this beautiful lover before she was dried up like a wastrel. A shriveled husk. Her craggy face like the mummified face of a corpse. Cackling It danced. It loved to dance. Dance upon the dead. Throwing It’s claws to and fro at a speed so rapid that the dry dead vegetation caught flame. Snarling clicking laughter as the planet burned.  
And so this dance became repetitive. Billions of screaming terrified whelplings consumed in a delicious feast. Planets burning and destroyed as It cackle and danced in an ecstasy of hunger. Then flying thru the void of space searching for more of that untameable feeling. Always dancing and hunger. Killing and feeding on beautiful suffering. But it was never enough. It must kill and flee the waste, resting as It’s form floated to another sumptuous buffet.   
Oh how It loved these rests just as much as the feast. The icy void. The sparkling of distant stars. The hollow gentle floating of deep space. It’s consciousness bubbling in and out of this dimension. In and out of this cosmos. Empty. No hunger. Nothing. And It was delicious.   
It would float and rest for an eon or 2 before plummeting down. Flaming and exploding into the gravitational pull of yet another fearful lover.  
That was when It felt that presence. The other. No. Not the turtle. Not of the macroverse. Not as the revolting reptile was. Nor as Itself. This was something else. Something other. Colder. So so much colder than the void of space. And darker. Bending light around itself like a ravenous singularity at the center of every black hole. But this was no mindless singularity. It sought IT. Gave chase to It. And this thing. This darkness. It was the unknown. Nonexistence.   
And this nonexistence whispered to It. Not words. Only emotion. This thing hungered even more so than Itself. Was never satisfied. And cared not for the fleshly bags It so loved to bathe in. This Thing only seemed to haunt It. And the Thing whispered. Showed It things that It had never thought of. How It was the last. The only. Showed It the blackness of nonexistence. Whispered of the doomed womb of death which awaited It. Perhaps this Thing was the collective vengeance of the lights It had snuffed out. Perhaps these whispers were merely the screams of the dead.   
And so a new dance was born. It fled. Feasted and gloated. Forgot for awhile this impending approach. Then the Thing would arrive. And It would flee. It’s floating rest became tinged with nervous awareness. At first this dance was languid and slow. It had time to fill itself and dance. Cackling and roaring and taunting this nameless thing. But then the Thing crept forward in earnest. It no longer had time. This was another newness to It. Time. Or not enough of It rather. It began to have to HURRY. Feasting became desperate gobbling. Dancing became screeches of frustration and angry gesticulating.   
But It never fought the Thing. Had no knowledge of an even fight. Had slopped and consumed It’s own brethren as they had rested. Just so that It would never have to share the tasty terrified flesh It so craved. No. This Thing was sentient. Alive. Strong. And the dark promise this Thing whispered of simply would not do. And so It fled.   
Soon The Thing was always close. Always trying to wrap it’s cloudlike blackness around It’s form. This Thing did not gloat. Nor exhibit any sort of passion. It was merely hungry. Not to destroy. But to constrict. To hold It forever helpless.   
It did not wish to be helpless. An eternity of quiet awareness. Of motionless listening and blindness. And It could no longer feed. Could no longer rest. Must always flee. Faster and faster. No more floating. Only blinding speed.   
It began to feel burning hunger. Numbing tiredness. Desperation. So this was the Thing's plan. To wear It out. To tire It. Until it must supplant itself to the will of that blackness. All alone and motionless. That would be……. So lonely. It had never thought of Itself as a lonely thing. Had always had delightful screaming company.   
But now this idea took root. Clawed into It’s mind and gnawed on It’s heart like the nearly forgotten youth of It’s own kind. But they were gone. The whispering stardust of a memory. There was nothing out there. No help for It. No supplication. And this being It’s own fault did not occur to It now. This was simply the way things were. Simply what It was. And that……. Loneliness…….. Wanted to end It. And there seemed to be nothing It could do. It slowed. It weakened.   
But It had never been a foolish being. And desperation makes a keen mind even keener still. It developed a plan. It was risky. But possible. It smashed and shook It’s head as It fled, slashing at Itself, causing pain. Discomfort. Any thing to block It’s thoughts from the Lonely. And then It expended itself. Using the very last of It’s energy to explode Itself far from the Lonely. Far from the awareness. From the presence. A small planet came into view. Tiny and blue. The third sphere from its star. It felt the burning pull of its atmosphere and lost consciousness. In this state It was no longer visible to the Lonely.   
It knew no more for some time. Knew nothing as It’s form crashed into the soil of this world, melting and burning so deep that the plant life around the crater was cauterized. It took a good long rest. Millenia passed. Life forms rose and those same life forms died out. It might have rested forever had not a strange kind of life form emerged. One unlike any other It had ever encountered. Bipedal. And able to reason such as Itself. It was this reason which disturbed It’s long rest. Which ignited It’s eternal hunger.  
It burst from It’s deep cavern, withered and starved, joyously swinging It’s gaping toothy maw. It had never tasted anything as sweet as these creatures. It gorged itself till swollen and sated on the easy to conjure fear of them and upon their succulent flesh. Their intelligence was their own undoing. They were so much simpler to scare! And they were so weak! Yes. This planet would do very nicely for what It had in mind.   
It knew the Lonely was waiting. Waiting to see It migrating to yet another lush world. But the Lonely would not find It if It stayed small. If It stayed Hidden. Things would have to be different. No more burning of planets. No more wiping out the entire populace of a world. It fed lavishly in a much smaller form. Enjoyed itself for small periods of time, usually 2 or 3 of this planets solar cycles. Then It would snuffle under the weeds to rest and to dream for awhile before rising to continue the circle of feeding and rest.   
As It languished here It’s attitude and behavior began to change. It became quieter. Darker. Learned to hide behind darkness or a false form. Learned that stalking It’s prey could possibly stretch out the entertainment. And that toying with the younger of the species made the meat taste DIVINE. It was content like this. It could survive like this. And since It could no longer dance in planetary fire It instead would cause some momentous event to dance in a little instead before slipping off to rest. It found It could do this. To the older of these life forms. To the ones who kept their heads down and obeyed blindly. And this pleased It. It needed nothing else.  
Until It saw her. Or rather…. Until she first encountered It. A young female of the species. At first there was no significance about her to It. Merely another capering meat sack to feed off of and enjoy. It had no descriptors for her species other than male or female. Young or old. It only even noticed her because of her……. Sadness. The emotion did not smack the chops like fear did. It was thicker. Like a bitter molasses. And she positively swayed with it. Even this was not significant. It had scented this before. But usually only in the elderly. And yet, It found Itself monitoring her even as It monitored the suckling young. These humans. Entertaining even in their monotony. It had recently fed so, for now, It was content to merely watch all of them.   
And there she was. Dancing into It’s vision yet again. She was tilting her head, emitting low pitched rhythmic noises as she walked, swinging a stick. The noises were like singing only her mouth was closed. But there was none of the usual joy these creatures normally exuded when making noises like this. It was tiring of It’s continued attention on her. A quick glance into her mind produced an effective lure. Something called…….. A clown. A freakish aberration of the human form. How ENDEARING! It adored this new form as It’s body morphed it into being.   
Luring her was as easy as It had thought It would be. She followed It’s warm voice tho she never really looked at It’s form.  
Deciding to have some extra special fun before feeding, It combed her mind to find her biggest fear. And found…… the Lonely. The human jerked in surprise as the once friendly clown before her roared like a fiend. But It was already gone. Hidden shivering and gibbering deep under this town.   
How could she have seen the Lonely? How could she even know of this thing? It’s jaw bones cracked as It felt an obscene smile. It did not matter. If she was dead, She could not remind It of the Lonely. Again It sought her out.   
This time she was alone. Gathering water. And as It rose before her, clad in some nameless beast as the Lonely had no true form, It was AGAIN brought low. But this time It was because of her gaze. Her eyes were vacant and glazed. She looked thru It. Beyond It.   
She reached a hand forward in a giving gesture. She questioned. Motioned with the stick she’d been carrying earlier, making her petticoats swish. It realized…. She could not see. The only vision of fear in her mind was darkness for this reason. Stark curiosity made It comb her mind much more thoroughly.   
She had lost her vision very young. The only thing her young mind could remember was the very clown form It had chosen to assimilate. Therefore, by choosing this, It had eliminated any fear she might have felt.   
This felt strange. Being here in front of this insignificant thing without even a whisper of fear. Her face was creased with an enormous smile. Her cheeks shone with crystalline tears. She was murmuring of magic. Of angels and gods. Her hands were down near her side, palms facing It. She was completely open to It. It felt…… pride……. Within It’s chest. It knew nothing of human custom or mythos. And this rippling tide of adoration was so very new. It hissed at her in feigned defiance. Testing her. This brought a laugh from her. Not one of mockery, but of quiet gasping joy.   
This soft laughter was It’s undoing. It allowed her to approach. Allowed her to touch It’s face. To feel the lines and planes of this form. And from this time onward, this form was It’s very favorite. It came to her often. Watched her from afar constantly. Listened to her stories and whimsy at first while perched before her as she’d sit making chains of daisies. Then later, with It’s head in her lap as her fingers traced the lines of It's brow and carded thru the ginger hair on It’s head. It had never received such treatment.   
This being did not feel love as a human might. Only slowly began to register a complete inability to function, to continue, without these things. It still fed. Voraciously so. But in It’s alien mind this feeding was simply not a part of the very most special time It spent with her. And she never knew of It’s eating habits. She was never alone. Never in danger. It always watched. Became obsessed. Did not wish to leave her. Her presence was the blinding light that drove away any last shreds of that dark and dank Lonely. It found that It no longer cared if the Lonely even still existed.   
And yet all good things must end. All good things must pass away. And so it was with this as well. It was growing tired. It would need It’s rest. It fought this. Pushed It’s own endurance, staying awake nearly 3 times It’s normal cycle. It had told her It must rest. And that this may very well exceed her. It had waited for her to lash out. Instead she’d held It tightly. Reassured It.   
“I would wait forever.”  
And so It curled into Itself. Wept into an uneasy rest. Felt the cold chill of the Lonely as It’s consciousness faded. And all was no more.  
27 years later  
It had been swift. Awakened swift. Broken It’s fast swift. But something had been growing within her all these years. Something nasty and insidious. Dark and so very hungry as it ravaged her from the inside out. Her human mind did not know what this was as this disease was not known during this time in human history. But It knew. It could SMELL it. It could SMELL this waste eating his little human alive from the inside out.   
At first It did not understand. Could not understand. Could not fathom anything of endings or the ceasing of existence for anything pertaining to It’s own pleasure. But as she weakened and withered this knowledge became far too real. That she would be gone. No more listening to her childish stories. No more feeling her touch. No more watching her sleep or hum. It had been so pleased to discover that her propensity to create wordless musical noise had been called “humming.” And It did not wish for this to cease.   
During the day It watched from the drains, enjoying the ease of travel these “sewer pipes” afforded It. At night It slithered out to her and listened to her. As she became weaker and more tired, It would hold her head as she’d held It’s own head, and speak to her of things It had seen.   
One day she was so weak that she ceased eating. This was a concept that It simply could not grasp. She soon no longer spoke, merely gasping occasionally and shivering. It could sense her faltering heart. That night It wrapped a spindly soft form around her and generated heat. She felt so cold. This night It whispered to her of It’s past. Of It’s true nature. It whispered of the Lonely. It asked her to stay. Her vision was the Lonely to It. And It did not wish for her to be embraced in that hollow void. She didn’t answer. It hissed in helpless anger and tightened It’s hold, becoming warmer still. This simply would NOT do.  
It did not cease. So why should she? The impulsive question had an equally impulsive answer.   
Using It’s claws very gently, It lowered her jaw. Then It lowered Its face to hers. It had never kissed anything. Had no knowledge of this. Nor was It trying to do so now. It’s fanged jaws stretched open wide, wider, and wider still. Drool puddled out onto her gauntly aged face and chest. Her face glowed from 4 tiny light sources inside It’s throat. But this glow grew brighter. Without warning It wrapped It’s massive jaws around her head. It’s teeth did not press tho the longest points did split her skin in some areas. With a strong exhale, the macroverse screamed as It gave her a part of Itself. One flash of destructive light made her blank eyes glitter for a moment as It breathed into her a portion of It’s own existence. It’s own eternity. It’s body bowed and snapped around her as if It were in labor and struggling to drop young. The macroverse poured forth it’s screams and roars of despair and loss.   
But It had failed. Even as It’s precious deadlight had burrowed into the flesh of her heart so had her last breath exited her body. It unwrapped from her and collapsed onto the floor next to her bed, gargling sounds of quiet agony pouring from It’s closing maw. There was fleshy tearing pain and a hollowness where It’s little light had been. But worse still…….. It had felt that little light die with her. It had tasted death in a far different way than It had ever tasted death before. And the taste left It’s tongue dry and bitter like ashes and poison. It sneezed from the effect, each jerking contortion of It’s now shifting form feeling the shorn amputation of this piece of Itself.   
It paid no heed to her body as a human might. This was just an empty slop of entrails and cooling meat now. An old useless empty vessel. A tomb.   
It was no longer hungry. No longer upset or uncomfortable. Simply very tired. Hollow. Empty. It crawled down into It’s cavern and into the most dreamless rest It had ever had.  
It was listless ever after. Cold. Hateful. Always preferring the form of that clown. Incomplete.   
And always waiting. Always.


	19. The Fourth Deadlight Pt 2

Earth rumbles and debris flies from the hole it has been resting within. Shredding sounds emanate as well. It is tearing Itself out of It’s cocoon. Ripping Itself from the safety It has shrouded itself within for nearly 30 years.   
The blackness of the cavern flickers with delicate blue light as 3 orbs emerge from this hole. They twist and spin and sway, disjointed. As if they are missing one of their number. Bobbing and dipping, as if seeking out that other. 

The flashing light strengthens, gleaming down on a withered, skeletal quintet of claws. A gnarled hand grasps the rim of It’s tomb. It’s grave. It’s womb. It gibbers with hunger as It's other hand reaches up as well. Whispers of eternal ravenous hunger as It pulls itself up slowly. Sliding on Its emaciated belly out of the blackness. It must feed.

It retains this skeletal form as It gluts Itself. It’s mind empty of anything but the empty fire in It’s belly. After It has had It’s fill It returns to It’s lair, stretching and morphing to fill the silken bipedal shape of It’s favorite form. The clown. The image has been It’s most beloved form for nearly 2 centuries, since It first gazed upon it within the mind of It's……

It hisses, spittle flailing from It’s plump red lower lip, as It banishes the errant thought that had nearly intruded. That past was no more. Only a pointless memory. A dream of a beautiful emotion that no longer existed within Itself. Pining for that feeling was a concept as unfamiliar to It as was mercy. 

It has grown sullen these past 2 centuries. Sullen and hateful. Feeling a constant ache in It’s core. Migraine like throbbing from that little internal scar. In that tiny place from which Its fourth deadlight had shined. And a heady addicting darkness. As if It fostered the Lonely within It’s own heart now. 

As a result It’s killing was no longer indiscriminate. It now targeted the very most weak of It’s food source. Children. In this way It could feel more powerful. 

And so it is, as It creeps out of a sewer grate to stalk a small child who had run too far from her mother, It catches a scent which freezes It into an icy statue. Sends It’s vermilion eyes rolling into the back of It’s head in a pungent ecstasy. This scent, It’s only truly pleasant memory. It’s only hope. It had believed this scent to be relegated to the quiet moments just before It’s rests. Trapped within those few moments when It allows Itself to snarl out in remembrance and agonized longing. 

It's pained chittering and sniffling alerts the child to It’s presence. She sees the edges of It’s clawed form, a slimey xenomorph and squid hybrid It had chosen just for her, wriggling underneath the bush It had been hiding under. She screams and runs away. It does not follow.

It's pained chittering and sniffling alerts the child to It’s presence. She sees the edges of It’s clawed form, a slimey xenomorph and squid hybrid It had chosen just for her, wriggling underneath the bush It had been hiding under. She screams and runs away. It does not follow.   
It curls into Itself, It's form bubbling and quivering. As if It does not know quite how to move or function in the wake of this delicious scent. The scent of her.   
It's head swivels, caught between 2 forms. That of the monster and that of the clown. It searches for the source of this mouth watering scent, It's eyes, bloody and clouded, sweeping the park.  
As It's senses focus in, It realizes It can sense that light. That missing piece of Itself. Thrumming and whirling, pulsing and small, like a tiny hummingbird. And THERE. There she is.  
She is laughing. She is ALIVE. Running and tossing a strange object to a hairy quadrupedal creature. A dog it is called. And It is suddenly consumed by a strange emotion It has never experienced. This emotion twines into the fibers of It's subconscious, foreign and cruel. It has scented this in these humans but had never found it significant. Now, as it unfurls inside It's chest, the taste is acrid. Jealousy. It is jealousy. It is jealous. Jealous of this insignificant canine.   
Watching her. His one creature. His human. Watching her enjoy the company of another…. It is confounded and frothing with this jealousy. It shakes It's head, the tinkling of It's bells helping It to focus. Her.   
Suddenly, It's heart softens. It flattens Itself low to the ground. Watching her. Basking in her presence and the very emotions her presence evokes. Her hair is longer than It had been at her death all those years ago. Her cheeks were pink and vibrant. Her eyes….  
It feels another foreign thing in It's heart. This new emotion constricts It's internal organs. Tightly. Painfully. And yet this pressure is warm and pleasurable. It basks in this feeling.   
Her eyes. She can SEE now. It feels this strange new joy. She is healthy and well and seeing her like this, skipping and running and happy like this. It realizes and admits to Itself, in this moment, It has missed her. It has missed, silently, in those quiet moments It has allowed Itself to think of her, that vibrant energy that only she possessed. No. Possesses.   
It must have her. She is It's own. And It has subsisted long enough without her. But It knows It must wait. Cannot take her here in the day. In front of all. It cares not for what the adults should do. After all, It holds both sway and dominion here. It is the children It must avoid. Must not alert them to It. To what It cares for. Because, It knows now, that children can fight back. Must not let them see.  
It retreats to the sewer once more. Closes It's eyes. Thinks of her. Wills It's mind to blanket Derry. And feels her there. Can feel It's own little deadlight. Very quiet. But THERE. How had It not felt this before? But It knew the answer already. It hasn't instantly felt It's own deadlight, not because this light was dead. But because this light was no longer It's own alone. This light was now her light. It belongs to her now just as much as it belongs to Itself.  
It waits. Not patiently in It's terms, but to human hearts this wait is eternal. It finds where she lives and watches. Writhes with need for her to hold It's head in her lap as she once had. Quivers with the desire to have her speak. To tell It of herself. Of her day. Of how her life has been in It's absence. Listens from her drains as she goes about her life.   
It is strangely content to watch her like this for some time. Content to watch her actions during the day. And to feed at night. To feed. And watch her sleep. It would slither out of her tub drain and drag Itself along her carpeted hallway, hissing at her dog in its kennel until the creature's barking withered into terrified whimpers and the thing quivered in the corner of it's cage in fear. Ignoring It's baser instinct to kill. She found value in this hairy beast. So the dog must not be harmed. Then It creeps into her room, crawls under the covers with her sleeping form, wraps Itself around her, and listens to her dreams.   
She dreams of the night. She dreams of far off ancient world's and terrified creatures she does not understand. She dreams of burning planets and the Lonely. She dreams of It. And inside her chest, her deadlight stirs. Senses the nearness of its brothers. Dances with joy.  
It could continue like this for the remainder of her life. It found It could deny Its own rest if It has to. In order to continue this nocturnal existence with her. But this is not needed. Her own free will changes this fate.   
And she finds herself drawn into the sewers of Derry, Maine.


	20. The Fourth Deadlight Pt 3

It is instantly aware of her presence. Even as she ventures into the large sewer pipe in the barrens. Even as she clicks the flashlight she's holding on and shines the beam of yellow light back and forth. Even as she stumbles on the submerged rock in the shin deep grey water. It is instantly aware. And instantly present, even if out of the direct range of this light.  
"Why the fuck am I here?" She grumbles. It can feel It's light inside her even as she can feel it. Pulsing and trembling and tugging towards it's brothers. Tugging towards It.   
"Is……. Is there someone here?" Her eyes are misty, tears threatening to fall.  
"I feel dumb. I…… I dream of this place. I dream of things. Pain. Fear." Her voice trembles. "I even dream of clowns." Her voice cracks in hysterical laughter for a moment. This is the most beautiful sound It has ever heard.   
"I've always dreamed of these things. But…… the last few months…… I'm so afraid. I feel like I'm going insane. But I gotta know. I just HAVE to know. So here I come. Whoever you are. Whatever you are. I'm coming to you. And then…….. You fucking ASSHOLE…… then you'll have to answer me!"   
It is silent. Drawing back as she draws forward. She is shaking, in confusion and anger, but she follows the tugging inside her chest. She loses track of time as she walks, not questioning this pull, only pushing onward. It leads her to the great chamber of It's wagon. She gazes upon the symbol on the little door. Trembles. Then crawls down the rocky tunnel. And emerges in the great cavern. It's home.  
It now loses It's patience. She is here.   
The pale beam of her flashlight lands upon the tall figure of a clown. She gasps.   
"There you are. I knew it. I knew I'm not crazy. I knew you're real." The tears fall now. The beam of light shakes. It stands silently, It's hands clasped behind It's back, It's face sombre, It's vermilion eyes beacons, reflecting back at her.   
"Oh but you're just as beautiful as you look in my dreams!" She is sobbing.   
"I have so many questions!" The hand not holding her flashlight reaches towards It, shaking nervously.  
"Then ask them. I shall answer whatever you ask." It's voice is the very same rasping voice she has heard time and time again inside her mind. The vision of It grows cloudy thru her tears.   
"No. Fuck you. I'm here. I've dreamt of you my whole life. FUCK YOU!" She wants to hate this thing. Wants to tell It to leave her alone and bother her no more. Wants to leave. Wants to stay. And then……. She knows……. Doesn't question why……. She wants this clown.   
"FUCK YOU! MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE!" She throws the flashlight down. The light flickers and dies. And still she runs forward, her hands groping blindly in the pitch black. It doesn't move. Holds perfectly still as she collides with It's form. As she sobs her tears into the soft silk on It's chest.   
"I don't know what you are." Her voice is broken and quiet in this monstrous dark.  
"I don't know. And I don't care. Kiss me." She reaches up, clasping It's cheeks with icy fingers, and pulls It's painted lips to hers. It is utterly motionless as her lips tease and coax It's own. Her crying intensifies as she ceases, her chin lowering to her chest.  
"Are…….. Are you going to kill me? Cuz if you are…… JUST FUCKING DO IT." Her hand curls into a fist and whips upward.  
And is caught in an eternally strong silk gloved hand. With brute force, It slowly lowers her fist, as the other hand hooks a finger under her chin, drawing her face upwards. She gasps as she sees glowing blue eyes, not the vermilion they were before, in the darkness. They shine so brightly that her own face is illuminated. It admires the diamond like sparkle of tears on her cheeks, and her wide awe filled eyes, and her pink lips pursed in an O shape. Then It lowers It's lips to hers.   
It's lips are gentle and warm and soft. First brushing against hers, not kissing but exploring, then running along her jawbone to her ear. She feels the warm puffs of air on the tender flesh here as It huffs in her scent. It's hands are now wrapped around her wrists, pinning them to her sides.  
Her eyes flutter closed and she sighs as a deep growl rumbles from It's chest. It's lips brush her neck as It's mouth opens wide. She feels needle like teeth slide along her jawbone back to her lips, leaving a wet trail of saliva in their wake. It's whole body is vibrating. She wonders if this is because It's fighting the urge to kill her.   
But this is not so. It is merely controlling It's eagerness. It knows what she wants. Can smell the frightened arousal pouring from her hungry flesh. But these actions are not in It's nature. It is trembling from It's great desire to give It's human what she wants without harming her in this process. It has waited so long. It simply cannot abide even the concept of her coming to any hurt.   
Tiny gasps of air from her lips tickle It's nose. This air is scented with the warm essence of her, the tremble of their shared deadlight, of her thundering heart. Her hands slide up the front of his silken suit, one pausing to clutch an orange puff, the other traveling up to tangle in his neck ruff.   
She pulls gently. It allows this. It allows her to press her lips to It's own lips. She tilts her head, her tongue tracing It's lips, sliding along It's fangs. It can smell her. It can smell the detergent she'd used on her clothes. It can smell the saccharin sweet scent of the perfume she'd used. Some exotic flower. It can smell the soap she'd used. Admires the way it mixes with the natural scent of her skin. And then another scent. It has smelled this scent before. The scent of a human female ready to be bred. It has simply never acknowledged this scent. Things like this have never mattered to It.  
Yet suddenly it does matter. Suddenly this matters very much. It can feel It's own little deadlight dancing to a different tune than Its brothers. She wants It in a way that no other has. No patting It's head in her lap was this. No simple relations of the days happenings. Her body thrums with a primal desire. Calls out to It's body. It closes the eyes of this form. And answers this call.   
It feels a spurt of returned lust and hisses, wrapping It's arms around her and crushing her to It's chest. It shakes It's head violently, shaking her as well, causing her surprised gasps to mix with the tinkling of the tiny bells on Its costume. It's brows furrow demoniacally as It tries to process what It's body is feeling.  
It's blood feels like static. It's heart beats too quickly. It's vision is heady and blurry. She is the only point in utter focus. It's hearing whirs around the sound of her beating heart. Her scent makes It's abdomen coil painfully as heat pools in Its groin. In His groin.  
When his eyes open they glow a bloody bright vermilion under furrowed brows. Still clutching her, he looks down at her and takes in her scent quite loudly now, his lips wrinkling almost into a sneer. Saliva pools and drips from his bottom lip, as if he can already taste her.   
He bends low, hooking one arm under her knees whilst supporting her shoulders with the other, and hoists her into his arms. Carries her to the massive black jagged monolith in the very center of the cavern. Then kneels to deposit her in the center of it.   
He watches as her nose flares and her pupils dilate in the darkness. Then closes his eyes and wills his deadlights to appear, opening them again to watch the expressions on her face as they descend. The whites of her eyes glisten and her mouth opens, her jaw clicking. He feels a primitive beastly pride. Throws his arms out and lifts his face to watch them as well, this act of unconscious showmanship not going unnoticed by her.  
The 3 blazing orbs of light spin and sway, seeming to dance for her. The only other being besides himself whom can look upon them and remain sane. He can hear her gasping tho his crimson irises remain fixed on these pieces of himself. The deadlights dance all the way down to them, swirling around them so low that dust is kicked up in certain places where they brush and she can feel the cool wind generated by them.   
A hiss pours from him as he suddenly snaps forward, his eyes burning and flickering along with his deadlights, the crimson light of them leaving dancing orbs of light on her pupils.   
She reaches for him and he surges forward to take her lips again, unsure and unsteady, his buck teeth nip into the tender flesh of them. Too hard, drawing metallic tasting blood. Carnal snarls are let loose from his chest as he presses her down, presses his body against hers, feels her mould and fit perfectly against him. Her scent assaults him without tenderness or mercy. And so he responds in kind. Finds himself drifting and flowing with the waves that surge against his chest with each of her touches. Releases animal groans as her tentative fingers explore his face and the contours of his body underneath his costume. He is riveted by her. Her flushed cheeks and shudders. The way her belly twitches as his hands glide over. He is overcome with an urge to feel her skin. A need to taste. A physical need for her.  
The clothing tears like paper, flutters away into darkness, slipping from his claws. She is warm, disheveled, eager, and now bare before him. His gaze rakes over her form. Ravenous in a way that is unfamiliar. This is the very same desperate hunger which encompasses his entire being when he awakens, which incinerates all coherent logic as he awakens, and yet it is not quite like this other bloodlust.cl  
And it must be sated.  
He grasps her hips, his claws piercing the tender skin, sending tiny lines of blood dribbling down. Her thighs quiver when hot breath wafts over her slit. The scent is stronger here, overwhelming and mouth-watering. And when he flattens his tongue against her in a long, fervent lick, it is delicious.  
A heel digs into his back, drives into the spines of his suit. He does not care. He is lost in her, devouring her as he would any other feast. Heady and intoxicating. She is swollen and glistening and he lashes his tongue over her clit again and again, drinking in all she has to offer, each arch of her pelvis a rhythmic jerking flutter and her beautiful echoing cries mixing with the hum of her rapidly pounding heart all synchronizing with the call of her own Deadlight. And it's brothers spun closer.  
He tears his face away from her, his gaze never leaving here, and slowly backs away. She mewls desperately and reaches for him but he is unmoved. His face is slack, hypnotic. His drool, mixed with her juices, splashes over his lip and pools on the ground.   
She gasps and recoils in uncertainty as the 3 burning orbs, the true forms of this eldritch being dance and tremble over to her. They are so bright she feels as if she might go blind. But this brightness is pleasure in it's most finite form.   
Her skin tingles as first one, then another, and then the other begin to slide along her skin. They sink into her curves and swirl along every line of her. Her eyes roll backwards as she feels them swallow every flaw she has ever possessed. Cauterizing every hurt, every mistake she has ever made. All the pain burning away till there is only she and this blinding light. The little light inside her heart sighs along with her. Cries out in a tempest of ecstasy and of purity.   
Her mind scatters over the universe and stars. Seeing everything. And for a brief moment she knows every answer to every question that has been and will ever be asked. So this is her Pennywise. So this is consumption. Not a darkling evil. But instead the purity of flagrant and unyielding truth. Not dirty destruction but the certainty and sterilizing knowledge of being so completely clean that there is nothing at all.   
Although her writhing body is floating several yards above the floor of this cavern, she has no knowledge of this. Has no knowledge of the pale form of the clown watching her from below, his eyes wide and full of awe as he worships her with his true form.   
She is his. The deadlight in her heart marking her permanently and forever.


End file.
